Us Against The End
by Xalogel
Summary: Roadtrip, chicken, and beans. a zombie/TF2 fanfic.
1. Strike 1

**Us Against The End**

Strike 1 – Ace's Story

"Yo, whassup. Wanna know who you're talkin' to? Well I'll tell ya, my name's --- uh..." He shifts upon his makeshift seat of rubble, then pulls something out from within his shirt. Silver glints in what little light shines upon them. He scrutinizes the pieces of metal carefully, before continuing his little introduction. "Name's Ace. You kinda forget a name when no one calls you by it anymore y'know? But that's why dog tags come in handy...heh..." There is a short pause, and the speaker looks kind of embarrassed about his absent-mindedness. Ace was kind of an easy enough name to remember. He 'ahems' once, then goes on.

"Well, those kinda things? Names? They didn't matter anymore then. That was then of course, when it was just the same thing day in and day out, y'know? We were either fighting for some intel no one actually cared to read, or pushing a cart full'a explosives to the other team's base. Nobody called anybody by name, because it'd be too much a hassle to remember. So we called out for each other by class instead. We listened to 'the voice above', for all I know she was just some mindless old bitch having fun giving us mindless orders. Now that I think back about it, I'm not really sure why we took her orders." He brings a bandaged hand to his chin, thoughtful. "Gave us something to do I guess."

"But it all changed on that day man. Really it did. The woman was giving her orders in that annoying tone of voice, when suddenly she was like, screaming. Screaming for 'it' to get off her. Me n' Demo, we thought it was frick'n funny man. I mean, she totally sounded like she was frick'n getting raped there and then man. An old woman. Getting raped. You would'a burst out laughing too right?" He bursts out laughing at the memory, stopping when he remembers he still hasn't finished what he was saying.

"Right."

" But of course we didn't know what that 'it' was yet. Well, of course I do now, but lemme finish the story first, will ya? So the announcer sorta ends her screaming with some gurgling noises, and well, we're like, staring at the intercom, not coz we're worried 'bout her or anything, but because she sorta hadn't finished her briefing so we didn't know what to do. So then Soldier rounds us all up like animals; y'know, he and his famous zoo and farm story, and he gives us orders on what to do. 'We're gunna capture their intel today, those damned BLUs', that's what he says, and nobody really argues with him, because at least we know what to do now, what with the announcer silenced and stuff. That, and no one wants to be hit in the head with a dirty shovel."

"So as usual, I'm the first one in, coz I'm like, the fastest outta those idiots back there, but when I entered enemy base there was like, no one there. Made my way to the courtyard where usually an Engie would'a built a sentry, but guess what? No sentry, no Engie. So I was kinda like, ooookay, damned bastard must be waiting for me in the intel room, right? Well guess again buddy, I was wrong. Yeah, I'm never wrong really, but this time was just, like, man, I seriously didn't expect an empty intel room, y'know what I'm sayin'? There was---"

"No. Frick'n. Sentry."

He repeats the words slowly, ensuring his listener can hear every single one properly, emphasizing his point by placing his hands parallel from each other in the empty space in front of him. As if he were framing up his words.

"I was gettin' really suspicious man, so I walked up to the briefcase slowly, I mean, maybe the BLUspy was waiting to backstab me right? And holy shit did I jump when a spy really materialized beside me man, I totally just swung my trusty bat in his direction, and he was like 'mead!'*[1] or some French cuss word, and I was like 'hell yeah I totally got you, you frick'n spy!' But then I looked at the spy and was like, 'oh' because it wasn't the BLUspy, it was *our* spy and man was he looking pissed. Figures he snuck his way down here for the intel as well. Though there wasn't much sneaking to do, since he confirmed that the whole BLU base was really empty. Said he checked the supply rooms as well, but there just wasn't anybody. So we decided to take the intel back to base first. But as we walk out from the intel room we hear an explosion outside, so we think those damned BLUs must've snuck into our base while we were sneaking into theirs, and technically, it makes me kinda relieved, coz the whole BLU team disappearing and all? That's kinda creepy man."

"So me n' Spy, we make it to the entrance, only to have soldier running into us screaming in our ears 'Back up!!! BACK THE HELL UP YOU MAGGOTS' And I look over his shoulder thinking he's shootin' at BLU, but y'know what he was shootin' at? People. In the two whole years I've been here I hadn't seen people other than those in RED and BLU, so it took me a while to register them as people in my head. Except they weren't normal people. Soldier was a little wonky in the head but he wouldn't shoot at unarmed civilians. So I look carefully, well, as carefully as I could while being pushed back up some stairs by Soldier, and noticed that they looked kinda...dead. Like their skin was peeling, and they had missing limbs, and as Spy pointed out, one of them was walking without a head. Y'know what the first thing that came into my mind was?"

He snaps his fingers, nodding.

"Zombies. Shit yeah frick'n zombies. Soldier backs us up into BLU's supply room, and we help him knock over the lockers so he can reach the air vent on the ceiling. Using that dirty shovel he's always carrying around he peels the vent cover off and pulls himself up. To this day I still wonder how he managed to squeeze his huge chest into that small square hole."

"Anyway, he helps Spy up and Spy does likewise for me, so the three of us are all squashed up in the frick'n tiny air vent. Down below I could hear those people-zombie things bangin' on the supply room door. So we start crawling forward, and then Spy starts demanding answers, and Soldier's all 'the Nazis*[2] have come back from the dead!', which isn't really much of an answer so the Frenchie shuts the hell up. As we're crawling along I say that this is kinda exciting y'know, coz it is! Real life zombies, least I think that's what they are, just like in all those zombie games we play back in base. Except this is the real thing man! But as I was gettin' all excited and stuff, Spy starts asking about the others, I mean, there's nine of us, right? But now we only got three. And then Soldier says the last he saw them was back at our base, where the zombies, 'or Nazis' as Soldier put it, started pouring in from a hole in the supply room wall."

"And then it wasn't so fun and exciting anymore."

He stares at his feet, suddenly melancholic.

"Coz y'know, I came all the way from Boston, from a pack of eight. Ain't nothing so special no more about you when you had seven elder bros who were similar to you. But with those other eight people at RED? It was different coz I was the fastest man, and I could leap where they couldn't. Made me feel special, y'know? And after living with them for two whole years, they sorta became my new pack, y'know what I mean? They were a little odd here and there, crazy more like it, but they were my---what's that word again? Oh yea, family. Crazy, but still family..."

He scratches the back of his head, and adjusts his cap.

"That just sounded frick'n mushy man. Sounds like what someone outta a crappy soap opera would say. Damn, what is wrong with me. So where was I?"

He thumps his baseball bat on the ground, forming tiny dust clouds around his feet.

"Oh yea, air vent right? Right, so we kept crawling on and on and on, and Spy insisted on smoking and I was like behind him, so I was coughing my lungs out and trying to bat the frick'n Frenchie in the ass, when suddenly the floor gave way and I was falling. Crashed into some hard machinery. Stood up and rubbed my ass to find Spy sniggering at me, he was all 'I know what you where trying to do with zhat bat' that bastard. So I look around and we're in this factory kinda place. Never knew that the vents from BLU's place would lead here, y'know? When I signed up for this RED vs BLU business I was transported in a vehicle with no windows or openings, so I couldn't really see where I was being taken. Seemed the others were the same, too. Thought we'd be surrounded by desert and sand, y'know. But there we were in a very much modernized factory."

"Let me tell you this first though, that factory was frick'n old. I knew that I should'a been careful when I heard some creaking noise from the ceiling, but nooooo---Spy had to totally pick a fight with me about his suit---okay, so it *was* because I wiped my dusty hands on it, but that was to get back at him for laughing when I landed on my ass!"

"Anyway we were walking, arguing, just following Soldier's lead, y'know? When the WHOLE FRICK'N CEILING just crumbled ON US. Like, holy shit. Usually one of such fine finesse such as I would have totally been able to dodge that kinda thing, but just to remind you, I was arguing with King of the hissy fights, so I just went down with the rubble man. Second fall in a short period of time, said much about my luck huh? Didn't break anything though, but looks like the rubble has piled up so high I can't climb back where I came from. I hear two voices then, Soldier screaming for headcount above me and some angry sounding French from the other side of the rubble. So Soldier was up where we were, while Spy was down there with me, but on the other side of the rubble. "

"We were separated early into our game man. And c'mon, everyone knows you should never separate in some possibly zombie infested area right? This was seriously some shit luck we were having man. After lots of screaming and shouting since we couldn't quite hear each other properly, what with all the rubble, we decided to meet back at the factory's entrance. I mean, it must have one, right? So I hear Soldier crashing the butt of his rocket launcher on the ground, which probably meant he was doing his salute, and then a tapping on the other side of the rubble. 'Whatevier you do, remember zhat you are une Scout, oui?'

'Zso keep running.'

Not the brightest encouragement if you ask me, but coming outta Spy's royal hole, it was golden, man. I waited for his and Soldier's footsteps to fade out before taking the trek outta this---uh, wherever I'd fallen. Dunno how long I was walking, I took Spy's advice and burst into little sprints whenever I heard something that resembled the undead, no, no, I wasn't frightened, I was just taking Spy's advice okay? But I finally reached the end of the tunnel. Wasn't any bright light or cheering crowd awaiting my arrival, but hell, at least the air was fresher."

He takes a deep breath, as if wanting to confirm this conclusion, nodding when he felt it was true.

"And what's the first thing I see? That's right buddy, I see you! And I really could've used some water, so I drank some outta the bottle in your hands, a little stale, but still water none the less. I really gotta thank you pal, for the water."

"And for listening to all this man."

Scout pats the smooth white of the skull, before tossing it into a shallow hole he'd dug in the ground.

"Least I could do for you is this, buddy. Rest in peace!"

He covers up the hole, patting the soil flat with his makeshift shovel; a wooden plank, and stuck the bottle in to mark the grave. Picking up his bat and swinging it over his shoulder, he propped a leg up upon a concrete slab and surveyed his surroundings.

"Now where's that frick'n factory..."

~*~

*[1] Spy said 'merde', the French equivalent for 'shit'.

*[2] No offence to anyone, but in Soldier's profile on Valve's official site it says he spent his time blowing up Nazis till WW was over.

Hmmm yea....the last fanfiction I wrote was for Kingdom Hearts 2, I stopped that and went on a writer's hiatus, but now I'm back! Wiiiiith TF2 fanfiction. Ohnoez. Haha. Don't really know where this is going, let's just say playing TF2 *and* L4D at the same time created this. It's not a crossover, but there are gunna be zombies. Because everybody likes zombies right?

This starts out with Scoot's(RED btw) narrative. Because I just wanted to write in how Scoot would say things. Sorta. It's a little draggy, and there isn't any action, but just you wait. 8)

Thank you for reading! 3


	2. Strike 2

**Us Against The End**

Strike Two - Takes Two To Tango (at least it does here)

He didn't recognize the city, but then again there wasn't much left in it to recognize it by. There wasn't any pavement or road to walk on, and he had to climb along the fallen pieces of concrete and steel foundation. It wasn't really comforting, knowing that in case something happened he'd have to be running upon uneven ground. "Hell if I can run on all this crap," Ace angrily shoved what used to be a door out of his face.

He was headed for what appeared to be the only building intact, and crossed his fingers (well he didn't really, it looked kinda silly)that it was the factory they had been in just now. He hoped the factory wasn't buried under rubble, coz that'd be like looking for a hairless spot on Demo's chest.

He paused in his rubble climbing.

"Man that is some frick'n disgusting imagery I got there."

~*~

"Phew." The Scout placed a hand on the cold wall that was his former destination. Rubble climbing wasn't easy. He turned round the corner and found the entrance to the 'Westley Nuclear Plant'. The roof seemed to have fallen in, like it had done so back at that factory.

"This must be it then…"

He walked through steel columns that marked the entrance. "Hey, that's the hole I fell through!" This he said with much glee, because it confirmed that this was, indeed the right factory. Or nuclear plant.

Ace looked around him then, suddenly careful not to touch anything. In all his gaming experience, nuclear plants never did any good to humans. He lifted a foot to back away from the hole, only to find he's stepped into some kind of green muck that reminded him of mucus.

"Fuck!"

In fact, there was a whole trail of it along the floor. The factory suddenly wasn't so pleasant to be in anymore, so he headed back out to the entrance.

"Soldier! Where the frick'n hell are you!??" Ace yelled out, his voice echoing through the empty city.

"Why , I'm right 'ere, _magget_."

He promptly jumped a few feet into the air when he felt warm breath travelling down the nape of his neck, and landed ridiculously on the ground.

He turned around at the sound of snickering, and shot his assailant the nastiest glare he's ever conjured up since the last time Sniper did the laundry and his shirts had turned out pink. Or maybe that time when Engie had bought back decaf.

He took a moment to think about it. Yes, he'd take pink shirts over decaf anyday.

"What the HELL Spy!!!"

"Ohohoheheheho." Spy wiped away a tear, before lighting up another cigarette. "Zhat was funny. You should 'ave seen how 'igh up you jumped."

"Har, har. Very funny." Ace stood up, patting his sore(for the third time)ass. "Anyway, besides you being your usual faggy self, didja see Soldier around?"

"Hmmm, no. And who's ze fag? I didn't jump ten feet into ze air like a little gurl."

The 'l' at the end of the word rolled off his tongue in his very Frenchy, snakey way, making whatever he said ten times more annoying. Ace and Spy hadn't gotten along since day one. The moment the Frenchman blew smoke into his face as a greeting when he'd arrived at REDbase, Ace decided he'd hated him. He was slimey, and sarcastic, and you never knew whether the emotion showing on his face(or what little of it you could see anyway) was what he was really feeling.

Ace ignored that last comment, having nothing to retort with really. He dropped down onto the flooring near the entrance, sighing. Soldier seemed to have wandered somewhere, so all they could really do now was wait. And waiting just took all the fun out of everything.

~*~

Thumpthumpthump.

Thumpitythumpthumpthumpitythump.

Thumpthumpthumpitythumpthumpthumpitythumpthumpthump.

"Scout…"

THUMPTHUMPTHUMPITY---

"SCOUT! MON DIEU!!!!"

Ace paused in his orchestral thumping of his right foot and looked up at his annoyed companion. Ah yes, annoyed. The only expression Spy showed and really meant it. That, and his annoying 'I'm smirking because I know I'm better than you' look.

Gloved hands covered ears that were already covered by mask. He had wondered if it actually impended the man's hearing. Obviously it did not.

"What may I ask, are you doing!?" He sounded exasperated, and that made Ace a happy Scout.

"Oh I dunno---annoying the frick'n hell outta you?"

He grinned when he noted a twitch at the corner of the other's lips. But that was quickly replaced with a smirk, and he didn't like this particular smirk, since it read 'that response was completely expected of Scout'.

"We didn't really get off to a good start, oui?"

Ace looked over Spy suspiciously. "If you meant that time you blew your cancer cloud into my face then yes, the hell we didn't."

"Ah yes," Spy sucked on his cancerstick, and blew a large cloud of smoke for effect. "You do not like ze smoke, because it iz bad for your lungs, and you need them to run, am I correct?"

"Well DUH!" Scout threw his hands in the air, as if he was venting frustration that had been kept in for a long time. Two years to be exact. "So you DO understand! But you keep doing that, that thing---" He was cut short when a school of grey particles promptly collided into his face. "SHIT! Will you quit blowing smoke in my face you frick'n Spy!!!"

"Heh heh heh…" Spy stepped back before Scout could land his magnificent fist on his highly more magnificent face. "Do forgive me. I only do it for ze satisfaction of seeing your very amusing reactions, but not to spite you or anything, oui?"

"Whatever." Was this some kind of an apology? It was either that, or Spy really was a fag and was hitting on him, and since he wasn't all that keen on the latter he decided that the former was the correct answer. Well, maybe he wasn't such an asshole, but he just liked to piss him off a lot. Which actually did make him an asshole.

"Y'know, we didn't really get to know each other well back at the fort. We were kinda always doing our stuff and all that, huh?"

"Hm." Spy looked like he was considering the question, or thinking of something else while pretending to listen to Scout. One couldn't really tell.

"I mean," Ace continued anyway, "all I know about you is you like to smoke and you're French. Most of the time you're like, not with us y'know? I mean, I got ta know lotsa stuff about the others. Like how Sniper pees in his marmalade jars, Demo used to hunt lochness monsters, Medic's just crazy, Pyro is made out of ectoplasm, Heavy really likes his sandwiches, Engie plays guitar, Soldier sleeps with his helmet stuck on, hell there's a whole lotta shit I can list about them y'know! But you-"

He looked over at Spy, who was languidly smoking his cig, leaning against a bent stop sign. And then he suddenly thought of something.

"You're a spy."

"Oui."

"As in, like, a _spy _sorta spy."

"I 'onestly do not know what else to answer to zhat."

"Secretive, and sneaky and-"

"And lying bastards."

Scout stared at Spy for a long time, because that last phrase had just come out sounding a little angry, a little hurt. But he stared and stared at that masked face and all he saw was that impassive grin.

So maybe he didn't mean to be a lying bastard. Maybe he didn't mean to be so secretive, and not turn up whenever it was pizza night. Maybe he just _had_ to be a lying bastard. Because it was in his profession. Suddenly he felt kind of guilty for thinking of Spy in all the wrong ways.

Not guilty enough to not want to bat that grin-but not exactly a grin sort of grin off his face.

"So like…" Scout decided this was a good time to use his powers of subject changing, "Soldier's taking long, eh?" Which come to think of, was kind of weird, since Soldier was still in the factory when they left him.

"Speaking of which…" Spy was surveying the orange hue of the sky, and the sun sinking below the horizon. "I think it iz time zhat we go."

"Go where? What about Soldier?"

"Forget Soldier, we need to get going."

"What?" Ace stood up from his seat, he couldn't believe what he was hearing. Spy was telling him to abandon Soldier! "I don't frick'n believe what you're saying!"

"Le soleil. It is setting." Spy gestured to the sky. "It will be dark soon."

"Fuck, dark? Izzat what you're scared of, the dark?" Ace slapped his own forehead, since Spy probably wouldn't let him slap his. "We're talkin' zombies here, and hell you shoulda' been playing those video games with me man, coz they teach ya lots about zombies and we all know if there's zombies around, they DON'T just come out at night!"

"Ya see this?" He gestured to the rubble around them. "There's no zombies around! Nothing!"

"Tu es completement debile!!! You may not see anyzhing, but zhat doesn't mean zhere is _nothing_." Spy paused, as if he were listening beyond the fallen concrete. "Zhey are below us, zhey will make their way up to us, because zhey know we are here. And when zhat Sun sets, we will have no light, and it will be pitch black."

Ace considered this notion. He never really listened or looked closely to whatever was around him, because everything usually just passed by in a blur when he was on the move. Now that he listened closely, he could hear soft, scraping sounds…"But your lighter---"

"Zhis?" Spy flicked out his lighter, and the tiny flame flickered. "Does zhis seem bright enough to you? Or do you suddenly 'ave nocturnal vision? Come magnifique Scout! Lead me through zhe dark!" Scout scowled at Spy, because he was on sarcastic mode again.

"But Soldier---!"

"If he's alive, we will see him, sooner or later. If he isn't, he would not have wanted us to be waiting here for 'im, getting eaten by ze undead." Spy continued, before Scout could speak again, " Zhis is how ze real world iz, Scout. We are not in ze fort anymore. Zhere iz no such thing as a ceasefire. Anymore."

"This is bullshit man!" Ace just wanted to rebut whatever Spy just said. Because it kinda hurt to admit it was all true. "You don't just leave one of your buddies out here to die! You can't give up waitin' till you're sure he's really gone!" Gone. That was the word to use, because 'dead' just wasn't cool to say at the moment.

"Go on and leave!"

...

"I hope you get eaten by frick'n zombies!!!" He added that as an afterthought, and turned to see what Spy had to say to that.

Only to find the Frenchman had already left.

"Well fuck you!" Ace showed the finger, and in all directions, in case Spy was cloaked and still in the immediate area. Which he was, and he grinned when he saw the offending appendage.

"Much obliged."

~*~

Not too long ago, Ace was courageously taking a stand against leaving one of them behind. It just went against his morals, even if they were rough and vulgar ones. He was the man, man, and he'd wait here for Soldier even if he had kill every single zombie that came at him.

Well, screw that.

He was really thinking twice about what Spy had said earlier. It'd been about an hour, and the scraping noises from just now were now clearly feet dragging along the ground. Spy _had_ been right about zombies lurking underground. And they were edging closer to the surface.

Perhaps it was when an increasing number of zombies started pouring out from the hole in the factory that he decided absolutely agreed with Spy. And perhaps it was when the zombies were pouring out faster than he could blast them back in that he realized how frick'n stupid he had been.

So when he was grabbed by the ankle and pulled halfway down into the pit of doom while he was trying to press them all back in, he didn't really have anyone to blame. Not anyone but…_himself_.

It had happened so fast. It was faster than getting mobbed on Left 4 Dead in Expert mode.

"Shit, shit, shit shit SHIT!" He was hanging onto the edge of the hole with both hands, having dropped his scattergun in the hole. He'd tried kicking at the damned zombies, but that had only aggravated them more and he only felt more weight pulling down on his legs.

This was not. Good.

His hands were slipping. He never did work out much on his arms. All his strength was in his legs, but right now they couldn't really hold off ten times his own weight. Or maybe twenty. He would have looked down to give the exact number, if only he weren't so focused on keeping himself from slipping off the ledge.

He dug his fingers into concrete as a last resort, but it wasn't good enough to fight the tug of the undead. As his hands gave up on him he yelled the one word which described his predicament the perfectly.

"FUUUUUUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!huh?"

That last part was unintended. But what more could he say when his hand was seemingly grabbed by thin air?

"I really do not know why I came back for you."

The face of that familiar voice materialized into being, and the thin air that had grabbed onto his hand turned out to be a pair of gloves. Gloved hands, actually.

"Spy---!" Ace winced away from the deafening revolver shots by his ear. He felt the weight disappear from his legs, and suddenly there was ground below him. "Man," He gasped, "that was---"

"Up up up! Ale!" Spy was dragging him up, and pulling him into a run, not even waiting for his thanks. Out of the factory and Scout noticed the city wasn't so empty anymore. "While backtracking I seemed to 'ave brought quite a few friends, as well."

They avoided a few grabbing hands, and then Ace noticed Spy was leading him towards the worst of the rubble.

"Spy! The fuck are you going!??? No way we can run properly over all'a that crap!"

"It may slow us down, but it slows zhose things down more. We need to find zhat shack just outside zhis place." Spy cleared the path with his revolver, and Scout remembered he still had his pistol. Whipped that out and covered the other while he reloaded.

He turned back, concerned about the particular mob of zombies pouring from that hole in the factory. Spy was right, they were tumbling and tripping over the uneven rubble.

"Shack." He jumped over Spy, and landed on the highest point of the pile of crap. Took a moment to look around, albeit frantically, since the things were closing in on them. "Shack, shack, shack…" Spy was right about not being able to see well once the Sun had set. It was only evening, but without the usual electrical lighting he could barely make out the staggering forms of the undead. And that shack looking thing in the distance.

Wait a second---

"SHACK!!!!!" He skidded down from his high perch in his glee, though he didn't know for sure what was so good about a crummy o'l shack. Quickly he switched his pistol for the bat, and rushed towards the shack, knocking back anything in his way.

He swung the door open with a rusty creak and hopped inside. Turned and didn't see Spy following behind. "Spy!?" He cursed, wondering if the zombies had got him. He was ready to get back outside to find him, when he was thrown back into the shack by some invisible force. The shack door was slammed shut and bolted, sending everything into darkness.

"Oof, what the hell!? Spy, next time tell me when you're frick'n cloaked!???" He slapped at the weight on his lap, and heard a snicker.

" 'ands off zhe goods, petit garcon."

"What!?" That, in relation to both the words in English and in French.

"Never mind." If Scout could see right now, he'd see Spy grinning to himself, looking quite silly in fact. But he couldn't, so it didn't really matter.

They could hear the moaning of the undead outside, and clawing at the door, and all around them. But the shack seemed to have been made out of pretty thick wood, and was holding fast.

The both of them sat there in the dark for awhile without saying a word, just catching their breaths. Technically if one removed all the rubble and returned the city to its former state, it'd be correct to say they had only crossed the street, and had not just run a marathon while jumping concrete hurdles and dodging zombies.

"Hey."

Ace was the first to speak, directing his eyes at the only thing he could see currently; the glowing end of a cigarette butt.

"Name's Ace."

He heard the other man inhale deeply, and squinted when a waft of smoke travelled in his direction. Even in the dark the bastard was able to somehow direct the smoke towards his face.

Silence. That, and the sound of zombies outside. Scout thought at that moment that Spy was simply an asshole by nature, and wasn't going to answer.

"Veryl."

But well, life proved him _wrong_ yet again.


	3. Strike 3

**Us Against The End**

Strike Three – The Liar, The Voyeur and The Cornish Game Hen

Outside they continued to howl.

He'd rummaged around the dark shack and had found half a stick of candle. Made Spy light that up and took stock of what was inside.

There wasn't much in there, some dirty clothes and blankets, empty cans and bottles. Depressing words marred the wooden walls in chalk and marker.

'We are going to die in here.'

"That, or outside." Ace commented, and he saw that earned him a little grin tugging at the corner of Veryl's lips.

'Wait till day, they'll burn!'

"And you should toss garlic at them too." Spy snickered at this, and Ace grinned. If there was one thing he could do about their predicament, it was at least to lighten up the mood. He moved on to the next writing on the wall, ready to conjure up something smart to say about it.

'mY fIrSt VAcAtIoN.'

A child's writing.

Next to it was a drawing of what appeared to be a city filled with flowers, rabbits and butterflies. Probably a little girl. In the middle of it all were stick figures, labeled 'mommy, me, daddy'

It would have put a smile on anyone's face in this situation, because a child's innocence and naivety always conjured up hope for the grown-ups, who had seen the evils of life.

If only.

If only that stick figure labeled 'daddy' wasn't one without a head, and a missing leg.

It immediately dampened the mood, and Ace had nothing funny to say about it. The two of them sat in the soft orange glow of the candle, silent once again except for the noise outside.

He heard a sigh, and then the candle was blown out, plunging them into total darkness once again.

"Wha--?"

"I would rather be blind, zhan have to see any more writings on zhese walls."

"Oh." The scout leaned back against the wood, staring at the blackness of the dark. He wondered if the little girl was still alive, somewhere. Now that he thought of it, the video games had never focused on putting children in these situations. He hoped he'd never have to fight _little_ undeads. So far there weren't any. Thankfully.

"Hey."

He called out for the other, waited awhile and got no response.

"Spy?"

"Say it."

"Say what?"

"You're just embarrassed of being _wrong_, again."

That struck a nerve. At least the word 'wrong' did. Because Ace the scout was never _wrong_. That didn't include those few times in the past two chapters of course.

"I can say it if I want to!"

"Zhen say it."

"I don't frick'n wanna!"

"So you can't."

"I. SO. CAN."

In case you were wondering what this particular argument was about, it involved a Boston boy's pronunciation of a Frenchman's name.

"Zhen prove it." There was a sudden flicker of light as Veryl lit his cigarette, and Ace was pretty sure he saw a smirk on the other's face.

"Fine then. I _will_."

A pregnant, prolonged moment of silence.

"I am waiting."

Spy didn't sound impressed. Ace took a deep breath, trying his best to remember how the Frenchman had said it the first time.

"Vae-ree-hail."

A giggle. Albeit a manly one.

"Shut the fuck up you fag! Not as if you can pronounce _my_ name perfectly either!"

"What. Zhere is nothing wrong with 'ow I pronounce your nom. 'ace."

Ace grumbled to himself. It wasn't as if it didn't sound right. It was just when Veryl said it, it sounded as if the capital 'A' had been downgraded to a lowercase 'a'. As if he were belittling him.

"You will learn to call it properly soon enough…when you need me."

Ace snorted at that. As if he couldn't very well hold out on his own. ::You couldn't, frick'n idiot.:: His mind told him, as he thought back to that time back at the factory. He promptly shut that voice of truth and reasoning out of his head. Didn't do well for his ego.

"Yeah, well, like I was saying. How'd you know about the shack anyway." It didn't really matter how he'd known about the shack actually. He was just trying to make conversation. He didn't like this notion of silence and staying put in any one place at any one point in time. And it was going to be a long time before morning came.

"Zhere was a sign post. People had written directions on it. Evidently zhis shack could hold off zhose things."

"Huh. What else did it say."

"Zhey have gathered at the city up ahead. A stronghold, zhey say."

"Ya think the rest made it there too? Maybe Soldier's there?"

No reply. If there was one thing he could remember from all that Soldier had screamed in his ears, it was to 'leave no man behind.' Soldier would never have left them to move ahead on his own.

"We leave zhe moment we have light."

It was short and curt. Veryl didn't sound like he wanted to talk anymore, so Ace just lay his head down upon folded arms and squeezed his eyes shut. It was only the beginning, but he was already missing life back at the fort.

~*~

" 'ace." There was a hand nudging him in the shoulder, and he batted it away, annoyed.

"Get the fuck outta my room…" He mumbled, but was jolted awake when some smoke was blown rather violently into his face. "THE HELL!??" He opened his eyes to find someone else's face nose to nose with his own. "WHAT—" He scooted backwards, hitting the wooden wall of the shack.

Veryl chuckled, grinning when Ace scowled at him. "Bonjour, 'ace." He looked out from gaps in the walls where sunlight had shone through. The large mob of undead had dispersed, so there were only a handful of them outside. Looked like a good time to start heading out. "We go now. If we follow zhe road up ahead we should reach a house. Beyond zhat is zhe city."

Ace grabbed his bat and stood up, stretching. Finally, time to get out of this tight space. "Ready when you are!"

Spy nodded, then unbolted the door, swinging it forcibly open. That knocked the zombie at the door well out of their way. "Don't bother about zhem. We only have limited ammo. We run through and only hit when needed, oui?"

"Gotcha!"

With the Sun against their backs they headed out from their safe house---

shack.

~*~

He was never really good at any of this. He was an awful actor, was afraid of sharp objects, and blood. He liked to paint, practice figure skating and photography. The only reason he was in this profession was because his father had been in it.

Back at the academy he was the laughing stock; he always missed, and stumbled over his own feet in cloaking class. He was miserable, but at least the thought that he'd never be sent to the battlefront because of flunking all his subjects gave him comfort.

So when he was called into the cold, unwelcoming office, and was told he was being assigned to BLU, it was natural that he was très shocked.

'You should be honoured.' He'd been told. 'Your life in exchange for another victory over RED.' He'd been told.

He'd been told he'd be part of their new plan to steal RED's intelligence.

He'd been told he was to disguise himself as the Spy who was already at the BLUbase, and let the enemy take his life. So that when that Spy _did_ steal their intelligence, the REDs would be taken by surprise.

His life would be celebrated.

So he was told.

Hide. That was his first thought. But he'd be shaming the family name, and so he had boarded the vehicle to his own death.

If only it had been that simple.

It was the first and last day he'd been at the BLUbase. The vehicle had come to a sudden halt and he'd been dragged and pushed around by various members of the BLU team, amid a crowd of seemingly _angry_ people. There were no introductions. Just lots of yelling. He didn't recognize any of them; there was one who had a cap on and was yelling at him to follow, but he was gone in a flash.

And then he saw _him_.

The Spy he was supposed to play puppet for.

The man saw him too, blinked, as if he knew he was the one the academy had sent. Didn't say a word but was pulling him along. He was shooting at the people, professionally. He never missed. He was lead along into a tunnel, and turned up at a city full of collapsed buildings and nothing more. Ran down the road where there was a house. He cleared out the family of people living there, and tossed the bodies out before locking all the doors and windows.

He opened the top cupboard in the kitchen, and had tossed out all the food. After which he had gestured for him to get on his shoulders and into the tiny space. The only way he could fit in was to fold his knees up to his chest, and to bend his head down. Not that it was much of a problem, aside from being known for being the lousiest Spy in the academy he was also known for being quite the contortist.

A flashlight was shoved into his hands, something the man had found from the bedroom drawer.

"Be quiet. Do not move. Do not come out. Cloak if seen. Run."

Words spoken in French. Those were the first words he'd ever spoken to him, and they were the last as well. The cupboard doors shut closed, and he heard footsteps fading into the distance.

Abandoned, he thought. Because he was nothing more than a burden. He was nice enough to have helped him get into a safe hiding spot though. With a flashlight too. He could stay here, and help would come soon. And he'd never have to return to the academy, or back home. He could pretend he were dead. He could live alone if he wanted. Consoling thoughts.

But he knew none of it was true.

As a Spy he'd been taught to lie without batting a lid. The only one he'd ever lied to was himself.

He didn't know how long he'd been staying in the cupboard. His limbs hurt, being cramped up in the same position for so long, and his throat felt dry. He hadn't drunk anything since leaving the academy. He sighed, and lay his head down on his knees. Maybe he'd just die here, a dried up corpse. Maybe---

He heard a crash. Glass breaking. The window. The sound of stumbling feet.

Help? _Help???_ Was that the sound of help coming? But of course it wasn't. He knew it couldn't be. Because he heard a loud moan, and choking sounds, the sounds the angry people made.

Angry people. The angry people were in here with him. His first thought was to get up and run. Lifted his head only to have it bump rather loudly on the ceiling of the cupboard. He yelped then, gasped upon realizing his mistake and slapped his gloved hands tightly over his mouth.

_Be quiet. Do not move. Do not come out. Cloak if seen. Run._

His mistake was in not following the first two pieces of advice given to him. Advice he'd remembered too late.

"Ugh???" They had heard him. He heard them too, knocking things over and growling. Searching for him. And then _nothing_. Nothing but heavy breathing, sounded like someone with a broken lung.

Then a footstep. And another. The breathing got heavier, louder.

He pressed his hands tighter against his mouth, so that it was hard to even breathe. He trembled as the breaths seemed to be right beside his ear. He could hear it so clearly, he knew that the angry person was right by the cupboard he was hiding in.

He prayed for the angry person to go away.

More footsteps on the floor, followed by others in the distance. And then the breathing began to back away from his position. Carefully he let out a sigh, that turned into a whistle between his fingers.

Life never _did_ go his way.

He jerked at the sound of a loud howl, and running, and the cupboard doors were torn straight off, and he came face to face with the very _very_ angry person.

And though his mind told him to cloak and run, it was in his very instinct to first let out a very high, very terrified scream.

He should have just run away from home, and joined the choir to sing soprano.

It was too late, _now_.

~*~

Scout bounced along the road, swinging his bat from side to side. The Sun was shining bright, and he had already batted in a dozen heads. Much to the annoyance of Spy, who had told him to leave the dead alone lest they hindered their path.

He couldn't help it though. He wasn't used to just strolling down a path without having to hit or shoot anything. Besides, it was just a few stray ones, and they didn't seem to alert the others.

" 'ace!"

He was grabbed and they promptly dived into a bush.

"The hell!?" He shoved at the Frenchman, then kneaded him in the stomach with his elbow when he wasn't released. He didn't quite like the idea of being in a bush with a creature of the same sex.

"Stop zhat!" Veryl half-whispered, pointing over the bush and down the road.

A house. The house they were supposed to pass by, he assumed.

But then it wasn't _just_ a house. It was a house with a crowd of zombies around it, clawing at the windows and doors. Like how he clawed into the cereal box to get the prize at the bottom.

"Somebody's in there!" He said in the softest he could bring his voice down to. Which wasn't that soft really, since he noticed Spy wincing at the sound of his voice.

"Non. Zhere iz no one in zhere. We will carefully and slowly make our way past zhis house, just like Spies, oui?"

"But the zombies---"

"Do you want to survive? Oui? Zhen don't go rushing into random houzes because you _think_ zhere is someone in zhere!"

Ace swung at the bush with his bat angrily. "Fine! You heartless bastard."

Veryl grinned, and then proceeded to walk slowly away from their cover. He glanced behind him, pleased that Ace followed without complaint. He knew he'd cooperate. He knew this thing called human nature so well, it was the one which allowed them to turn a cold shoulder against their own kind.

Not that there was anybody in that house. No, there wasn't.

The zombies didn't notice them at all, having broken through a window and were crawling into the house. Scout's conscience nagged at him, that there was someone in there, and that he should help. It could have been someone they knew, or that little girl from that shack---

A sound so shrill pierced his ears even through his headphones. Like a racehorse reacts to the sound of a gunshot he started toward the house, bat raised.

"Merde!" Cursed Spy, watching Scout race towards the door to the house. The zombies had sure noticed them now. He had no choice but to follow, like how one has to follow his dog at the other end of the leash. He wasn't really sure what the leash in question was here though. He only hoped Ace wasn't leading them to their early deaths.

The boy was pounding on the door, while fending off the undead with his bat. He cursed again at Scout's inability to think, and made his way towards him while clearing the buggers with cleanly executed stabs to their backs.

"Thanks buddy! The door won't open, we gotta hurry man!"

"Idiot!" Veryl pulled Ace over to the broken window. "Through 'ere!"

"Oh, right." He hid his embarrassment and followed Spy into the house, careful when landing on the broken glass. It wasn't a very big house, they were in the living room, which had a kitchen behind a counter. Only a few zombies had gotten into the house, but they were strange, appearing to be chasing nothing.

There wasn't any sign of a human being either.

Ace watched as a vase was knocked over, and the zombies went wild, crowding over the fallen object. After which a chair was overturned, and the zombies followed, clawing away at the wood.

"What the hell?"

"Spy!" Whispered Spy, and Scout stared at him with a perplexed expression on his face.

"Watch closely---" He turned then, knocking a zombie away from the window outside with his butterfly knife, "When something falls over---"

Ace squinted and watched. A painting on the wall dislodged itself from its hook and he saw a faint shimmer in the air. He heard something bump against the counter, and again that glimmer of light. A familiar shimmer in fact, one he'd been taught in the fort to associate with a Spy.

As he watched on he got the feeling he was watching a very drunk, cloaked Spy trying to find the bathroom, but in vain.

"Non!!!" The shimmer screamed as zombies finally grabbed hold of it, slamming it into the ground. Scout immediately jumped into action, knocking the zombies off(at least he think he had knocked them off) and grabbing for the empty space he thought was the Spy. "Fuck!" He kicked at an incoming zombie. "Frick'n spy! Where the hell are you!???"

"Over 'ere!" Veryl called for his attention, and he saw that the man had his arm around nothing. It sure looked like he was holding something though. "Into zhe bedroom, lock zhe door!"

They bounded into the room, locking the door behind them. Ace dragged the dressing table up against the door, hoping it would hold. During this time Veryl struggled with the thing in his arms.

"Oof! Stop struggling!!!"

"S'il vous plait, monsieur, do not eat me, I promise to never 'ide in your cupboards again!"

The shrill voice was heavily laden in a French accent unlike Veryl's. At least he understood the REDspy most of the time.

"Tais-toi!" Growled Spy in that half-whisper of his. "Do not move either! Do you want to be gut like a Cornish game hen?" Upon command(and threatening) the thing stopped its struggles to escape, and quietened down to a pathetic whimper. Scout blinked then, turning away from the door and staring at that empty space Spy was holding onto. In all his life he'd seriously never heard a Spy whimper. They always had this annoying air of royalty around them. They would never beg, or show fear upon their faces. At least that was the impression he'd always had.

"Show yourself, I zhink you 'ave caused enough trouble cloaked."

Reluctantly the block of air melted into a tall, lanky man in a navy blue mask and suit, the uniform dress code for all Spies. Green eyes darted nervously around the room, and he blanched out at the sight of Ace's red clothing.

"R-rouge!" A sound of exclamation, as if the Spy had not seen them already while he was cloaked. As if cloaking granted him the blindness of a dog's monochromatic vision. Then there was more struggling, and a torrent of words he didn't understand, but Scout wasn't really listening anyway, his eyes transfixed on something else. That spot where part of that blue suit had rolled up over the arm Veryl had around the squirming body, and revealed the milky white skin of a slender waist.

He thought for a moment of running his hands over that skin, just to see if the skin was as smooth as it looked, then remembered it was a man he was looking at and slapped himself mentally for ever thinking that.

"Stop zhis nonsense!" The REDspy had BLUspy's hand in his face, and wasn't very happy with that.

"S'il vous plait! Do not 'urt me, I did not mean to be a Bleu!!!" The BLUspy continued to whine, and then Veryl had enough and spun him around so that they were face to face, his arm still around that waist.

"S'il te plait, RED and BLU do not even matter anymore, Larue."

Larue stopped squirming and looked up at the one who had called his name. "Veryl?" And then he threw his arms around the man's neck and clung on like a dead cat with its claws still stuck in your sweater.

Quite the dramatic reunion, and Scout wasn't liking it very much, feeling left out and standing by a door being pounded on by bloodthirsty zombies.

"You know each other!?" He found it ridiculous that Spies from opposite teams would be acquaintances, and even more so that Veryl was letting the other Spy hang onto his neck like that.

"Oui, we were in zhe same classes back at zhe academy." He pried the hands away from his neck, "Zhis," and jerked the one in blue forward by his tie, "iz Larue, also you may call him zhe worst Spy in 'istory. Really, Rue, what are you doing here. You should be back at zhe academy, n'est-ce pas?"

"Dzey assigned me to Bleu. I did not know you were a Rouge."

"BLU already has a Spy, Jacque, non?"

"Wait a fucki'n second here, do all of you know each other? And there's like, an academy where they mass produce assholes like you???"

"Oui, we all came from zhe same academy. Did we not?" He had an arm around the BLUspy's waist again, and was lighting a cigarette with his free hand. "Oui, we did." Answered Veryl to his own question casually, when the other didn't reply.

Ace couldn't imagine a school _full_ of them, all sneaky and backstabby. If they had gang fights did it involve backstabbing, and were they allowed to cloak when playing dodgeball? But then again maybe they didn't even play dodgeball. No, they probably only played Quidditch, dressed in expensive dress shirts(the kind with frills) and robes, had expensive French cuisine in a grand hall and stayed in dorms assessable only through moving stairs and had lessons regarding flying objects.

No _wait._

That was Harry Potter. Why had he even read the book, he wondered. He had it burnt for him by Pyro after Spy caught him reading it(he found a broomstick by his door the next day), yet traces of its evil cheesiness still remained in the back of his mind. _Damn it_.

"So like, you knew them all?"

"Who?"

"All those Spies got rid of for RED."

"Oh oui." Lips stretched into a wide grin around the single cigarette. "Every_ single one _of zhem."

Ace felt a shiver travel down his spine. He couldn't have ever brought himself to _kill_ someone he knew, even if it were someone he had only sat beside in class.

"Anyway." Veryl waved his hand in the air, as if he were waving the subject away. "Where is your revolver, Rue?"

"Ah—" The BLUspy lifted his suit to fumble at the holster at his hips, and Scout was treated again to the sight of white skin. " 'ere eet eez---" The revolver dropped noisily on the ground, and he watched as the man hastily picked it up again, looking very embarrassed.

Veryl rolled his eyes. "Cock it."

Larue fumbled with the revolver; there was a click, and a louder click followed that, followed by an even louder bang, and a smoking hole in the door just inches away from a very shocked Scout's face.

There was an awkward moment of silence, and then, very softly,

"………J-je suis désolé?"

Veryl took a long drag from his cigarette, like this was normal and Scout's head wasn't just blown off by Larue.

"Très bien!" Veryl confiscated the offending weapon, and pat the trembling Spy in blue. He grinned at the speechless Scout by the door.

"I have now an extra revolver, and it works, perfect non? Now we can be sure to make it to zhe city _unharmed._"

"Yeah---" Replied a still dazed Ace. The bullet had grazed his headphones, the sound of it hitting the instrument still rung in his ears.

Spies were taught to tell lies, but ever so often Veryl felt the need to tell the truth. And since leaving out details, such as them acquiring a new threat to their own lives in the form of the one called Larue, wasn't really lying, he mentally patted himself on the back for finally fulfilling the meaning behind his name today.

_Truth_.

~*~


	4. Strike 4

**Us Against The End**

Strike Four – The Four Leafed Clover

It didn't take a genius to realize they had sealed themselves in a room with only one exit; the door they had sealed.

"This is _stupid_." Remarked a disgruntled Scout, as he nudged at the dresser so he could peep in through that hole supposedly meant for his head. "What kind of bedroom has no WINDOWS."

"Zhe kind where _fun_ things 'appen, of course."

"What." Distracted by Veryl's answer he failed to notice the navy-gloved hands trying to help him move the furniture, and the chair he'd stacked on top of the dresser decided today was a good day to squash him.

"Je suis désolé!"

He slapped the hands away, getting up from under the chair and pointing an accusing finger at Larue. "YOU!" He jabbed his finger between wide green eyes, and the other stumbled backwards with a little squeak. ""You stay the frick'n hell away from me!!!"

"Rue," Veryl stepped in between them, from where he was languidly taking a drag on the bed. "stop trying to kill mon ami." He took the other Spy by the shoulder and steered him clear from the still pissed Scout. Bending over the dresser he pressed an ear to the door, cigarette held away from his face like a woman does her powder puff.

"Zhey're still zhere."

The confirmation sent Larue into panic. He looked nervous (Scout concluded it was just his default face) as he repeatedly asked what they were supposed to do. Long fingers kept twisting that navy blue tie, and red fingers kept tucking it neatly back into its suit. Veryl kept reminding him it was expensive silk, and he wasn't going to iron it for him if they ever did find an ironing board.

Watching the two Spies reminded him of his own mother, fussing about whenever he and his brothers got mud and grime on their clothing.

Watching them also made him realize how _close_ they were. It made him a little jealous (not that he'd admit it) that he didn't feel a part of their conversations sometimes, and oh how he hated to be ignored.

"I SAY we bust ourselves outta here!" He half-yelled, trying to obstruct their little mother-son enactment. Besides, he didn't fancy waiting it out again in such a small space. Soldier once said that 'freedom was never given to you. You must take them.'

"I was thinking just zhe same thing." A flower vase was lifted in front of his face. " 'ere's zhe plan."

He blinked, then looked back at the Frenchman, not the least enthralled by the fine china. "No really. What's the plan?"

"If only you were smarter, it would be so lovely." Dark blue eyes rolled at him, and he felt the urge to help them roll out of their sockets. "I will throw zhis out there, to distract zhem. Zhen we do what _you_ are best at; run. For zhe window."

It sounded simple enough really. If those things out there were dumb enough to be chasing falling furniture about the vase would prove to be a great distraction.

"Fine. What about the frick'n BLU." He shot said BLU a glare, and the other ducked behind Veryl's arm.

"Not to worry." Sighed Veryl, like a mother sighs over her bickering children. "We will be cloaked, and I will be holding on to him," He grabbed Larue by the waist and pulled him close, "_tightly._" And grinned at Ace's disgusted face.

"Whatever." Scout turned away from the scene of complete faggotry, getting into his sprinting position.

"Ready?" Asked the floating vase.

"Always am man."

"Non!!!" Squealed the BLU, but that was ignored, and the door creaked ajar.

The flower vase flew past the pair of feet at the door to crash against the wall opposite from them. Angry growls triggered him into a mad dash for the broken window. He tumbled out of the house, landing on his feet. He took a moment to praise himself for that perfectly performed manoeuvre; it hadn't even taken 5 seconds.

A French nose materialised in front of him, throwing him backwards.

"Ugh! Don't frick'n DO THAT!!!"

Veryl's face cracked into an apologetic grin. He didn't have to say anything and Scout could feel the sarcasm in that very facial expression.

"We go, oui, oui?" The insistent voice cut in before Ace could say anything constructive against the REDspy. He watched, arms folded, an eyebrow raised as Larue tugged at the other Spy's suit with much fervour. It miffed him that Veryl easily allowed those hands to crumple his clothing, when back at the fort he had very much kept everyone from touching them.

~*~

They walked along the beaten path, away from that house, before those things came out to get them. The road was sided by a row of red headed trees, the ground littered with their fallen hair. Was it autumn already? Back at the fort they thought they were surrounded by desert sands, because for years it had just been Sunny day one after another.

To think that just an air vent away was an entirely different place, with seasonal changes and all?

Not to mention the undead.

For a while it seemed as if they were just taking a stroll through a park, especially if one disregarded the dead bodies in the bushes. At least they weren't _moving_ dead bodies.

That was a consolation.

Outside in the sunlight he could see the BLU more clearly now, he was just twiggy and lanky and awkward. His head was always bowed, at the ready to apologise for his next blunder. Legs were a mile long. And from behind Ace concluded the Spy was also very much callipygian.

After a moment's thought he asked himself why his mind even went there, deciding it was best to blame it on those long legs that mislead his eyes, and that they were walking in front of him, leaving him with no where else to look really.

He decided to replace the fascination with anger, and shot the BLU his 'piss off' look whenever he turned back to look at him, or tried to make conversation. So focused on trying to look pissed that he didn't even notice the wall they had stopped at.

"It seems our safe city iz overrun."

"Huh?" He looked up then, the brick wall stood before him. The words 'IT IS SAFE HERE' were sprayed on with paint, but collapsed, twisted police barriers told him otherwise. Beyond the wall he could see the lumbering figures of the city's previous inhabitants. All up and kicking but not very alive.

"Fuck this!" He threw his bat on the ground, kicked it and watched the dust dance around it. They were on unfamiliar land and the city had been their only hope for a safe ground. Too used to being given directions and objectives at the fort he felt a little lost now.

His bat rose up in front of him, Larue having retrieved it for him. He snatched it from the long fingers, growling at the BLU not to touch his things. Frightened, the Spy ran back to the safety of hiding behind Veryl's arm.

"Calm down 'ace." Another cigarette into his mouth. Scout had lost count of how many he'd been smoking since the shack. "We may still 'ave 'ope."

He glanced over to where Veryl was gesturing at, and found more text under the big red ones. In blue this time they read 'find the Four Leafed Clover'. It wasn't very detailed as to where or what, but at least it was a directive they could follow.

"Ya think this frick'n clover thing is in the city?" Heard the sound of shuffling by his feet and found Larue on his hands and feet, scrutinizing the ground with the air of seriousness around him. "Get up you idiot!" He didn't know if to laugh or land his palm hard upon his face, so instead he decided pull the embarrassment of a human being off his feet by the cuff of his suit. "We're not looking for a frick'n plant you fucktard!"

" 'e're not???" He asked, looking dumbfounded, surprised even.

"It iz possibly a place in zhe city."

"We go in zhere???" Hands on that navy blue tie again, this time Veryl didn't bother to stop him.

It didn't look like a very large city, but it was currently just the two of them, and the larger than usual extra luggage. This looked like the time for some serious planning.

"Okay, okay, we run in, keep running, find the goddamn place and run to it!"

Veryl cast him an apathetic smile that read 'not impressed'.

"I understand your undying amour for running but---"

"Eez zhat un clover?"

Serious planning interrupted, they brought their attention towards the general direction in which Larue was pointed at. Just a little past the broken wall was a large shutter, probably lead to a warehouse. Upon its gritty metal surface was a hastily scrawled clover.

A _three_ leafed clover.

Didn't quite match the words on the wall, but at least it was a clover.

The discovery of that clover quelled all needs for serious planning, because there was but one simple objective now; to get there.

They all agreed (save for Larue, who didn't want to go into the city at all) the best course of action was to get there without alerting any of the undead. They didn't seem to have very good eyesight though, having not noticed any of them at the wall. The cars parked, or more abandoned along the pavement would make for good enough cover.

First step into the city belonged to Veryl, followed by Larue, who more or less had to be shoved along by Ace. He wasn't used to not being the one leading, but the REDspy had bestowed upon him the job of herding the sheep, and since it gave him a reason to push the one who'd almost killed him he supposed it was okay.

"Move it!!" He hissed, when the other stopped to stare at the pair of feet visible from under the car. There was an undead right on the other side of the vehicle, oh so close. Placing his hand on the small of the other's back he shoved again, thinking if that back wasn't clothed he'd be able to touch the milky skin he'd seen back at the house.

It seemed like a long time before they arrived in front of the shutters, though it was just a short walk from the wall. If it were in one of his games he'd have simply run towards it.

"Crap this thing won't open!"

"Of course not," Replied Veryl in his all-knowing manner, "it iz similar to zhe shutter back at zhe fort. Zhere should be a button for it somewhere..."

"Wait, wait, won't the shutters alert the frick'n horde when they're opening??? The one back at the fort was frick'n loud."

"What horde, zhis isn't Elle-for-dee."

"Well-wait, how'd you frick'n know about L4D?" Because there was no way the fanciful Spy would play a video game.

Lips formed a grin around the cigarette. "Remember zhe time, on Dead Air zhere was zhis player who kept shooting at you-"

"Y-you're shitting me. That fucktard who kept killing me!???" Well, he really should've guessed, since, if he recalled correctly, the username was 'iamnotaspy'. And should've known it was the slimy bugger when the faux-Zoey closed the safe house door on him; leaving him outside alone with the goddamn Tank. And when he shot him dead so he could take his health pack.

"FUCK Y---"

The painfully loud creaking of the shutters drowned out Ace's wholehearted cursing, and coupled with his loud 'WHAT THE FUCK' of surprise, it combo-ed beautifully into an attention grabbing signal.

All the cloudy dead eyes were on _him._ Well, them, to be exact, but the Scout was used to thinking as if he were the single actor standing in the spotlight, centre stage.

_This_ wasn't what Ace meant when he's said he wanted to be centre stage.

'WHO THE FUCK PUSHED THE BUTTON?' Was what he wanted to yell, but he didn't have to because he knew it was the one whose blue-gloved finger trembled over the button by the shutters. Besides, he didn't want to garner more attention than they already had.

He and his fellow Spy had their guns out before anything else. Seasoned by war the instinct remained even if the BLUs were now replaced by a bunch of moving corpses.

The crowd charged.

"Rue, under zhe shutters!"

Ace turned then, not really having to look to be able hit a target, since the undead were just that numerous. The shutters were barely up high enough to squeeze a pillow through, but he watched in amazement as the Spy flattened himself against the ground and slipped under. He turned to Veryl with a 'the fuck was that' expression, and the man only smirked at him. "He may be zhe worst Spy on zhis planet, but he iz quite zhe contortist."

"Vee?" Came the almost inaudible whimper. "Eet eez dark in 'ere."

"We will be in soon." Reassured 'Vee' as he popped a few bullets into some heads. He was sure he was a better shot than some of those other Snipers he'd gotten rid of.

*BANG* The sound of shotgun. "Veryl..."

"Can you find zhe button to close zhe shutters, s'il te plait?"

"Veryl!" He blasted at an ugly face before him. The wave of zombies was interminable.

"You start pressing zhat when we come in, oui?"

"Oui..."

"VERYL, GOD FRICK'N DAMN!!!" The whole city was upon them, pressing on so furiously he had to use his shotgun to knock some back before being able to fire a shot. It didn't help that his only other fire buddy was having a chat with the one safely behind the shutters. Or that the shutters were merely _inching _upwards.

"Not to worry 'ace." Veryl had his butterfly knife out, slashing at perpetrators who got way too close.

"Not to worry my ASS, neither of us," *BANGBANG* "are fitting under that FRICK'N shutter ANYTIME SOON." *BANGreloadBANG* "FASTER YOU HUNK OF METAL!"

"Just a leettle more," The REDspy took a moment to glance back at the shutters. "we go under...NOW!"

"Wha-?" Having no time to think he instinctively turned and ran, only to collide with the still opening shutters. Cursing, he crouched and pulled himself under. He could barely make it through, but the important thing was he _did_ make it.

Inside he heard the mashing of a button, and the shutters banged closed much faster than it had opened, weighed down by gravity. Darkness washed over them, loud banging on the metal behind them.

"Fuck." Panted Ace, to no one in particular. It'd been close. He'd almost been done in by a metal shutter.

"Rue, iz zhere a light switche?"

*Click* *Clickclickclick*

The warehouse refused to bless them with light.

"Great. Frick'n great. Don't you just love how bright it is right now? So we can FRICK'N SEE---"

Ace's shot at sarcasm was dashed when he was slapped in the face with something hard. First the shutters, now this. "Ow fu---" His customary cursing was also stopped short when he was blinded by a sudden flash of direct light.

"I 'ave flashlight!" Exclaimed Larue gleefully, happy he'd somehow been useful. "I _noticed_!" Growled the momentarily blinded, grabbing the proffered flashlight.

He took a moment (when he could see again) to look around the place. Nothing by racks of boxes. A normal warehouse.

"Well zhen," Veryl lit yet another cigarette. Ace was surprised the man hadn't collapsed from lung cancer. "shall we?"

"Not so fast man!" He diligently shone the flashlight from left to right. "You never know when a boss monster'll frick'n pop out man."

"B-b-boss???"

" 'hat. You are making Rue panic."

"You know! Like in Resident Evil!!!"

"Zhe movie?"

"Movie was crap man, I only watched it for Mila-"

"Where iz Larue?"

They paused in their discussion and looked around themselves. The lanky one had disappeared.

"Hey, twiggy!" Ace swung his bat around, in case the Spy was cloaked, in which case he could get vengeance by hitting him. For the flashlight blinding. And the almost-getting-head-blown-off-ing.

Sadly he heard no satisfying sound of his bat hitting said Spy.

"Rue, zhis iz no time for 'ide und go seek." There was a little worrisome tone to Veryl's words, and he found that odd, the Spy was always calm, and grinning, even if one of his allies had a gaping hole in his gut.

*splat*

A glob of slimy unidentified substance landed on his shoulder. The Scout produced a sound of utter disgust, wiping it off and shining the light upwards. "Larue, the fuck, was that you!???"

A pair of shiny lacquered shoes greeted him, and he caught a glimpse of blue and black striped socks.

"Rue!!!"

The Spy's face was kinda blue (matching his suit perfectly, he might add) and a reddish tentacle was wound rather tightly around his neck, dripping dollops of slime. His eyes followed the long extension and found it was coming from a gaping hole in this man's (dressed in a checked shirt) stomach, and concluded it must be one of his, uh, entrails.

Snarling it pulled their gagging companion up and towards it, the stomach lining extruding to produce a jagged set of teeth.

"LUMBERJACK!" Yelled Ace, since that was exactly what checked shirts reminded him of. Tossing the flashlight aside he jumped, grabbing the dangling feet and tugging down hard.

Larue let out a garbled sound of disapproval.

If only their Medic could see him now, he'd be delighted to know 'Scout assisted homicide' did, indeed, exist.

"You fool!!!" Veryl scrambled for the discarded flashlight, shining it upwards and taking aim with his revolver. "Let go of 'im zhis instant!!!" This, in regard to both the human and the undead. The sound of the revolver rang out loudly in the warehouse, and the three of them collapsed to the floor, one of them with a bullet through the head.

"Hey man, you okay?" Ace steadied the gasping Spy by his shoulders. His face was livid, lips a curious tinge of purple. "C'mon, say something man!" And then the tears came and he _did_ say a whole lot of something, only it was in French and sounded more like a Gatling gun, cracked as it was from the strangulation.

" 'hat iz zhe matter?" Veryl came over from where he was checking to make sure the thing was dead. Sounded like someone wasn't almost strangled to death. Saw the mass of quivering nerves on the Scout's lap and grinned. "Zhere zhere," He knelt and gave him a little pat on his back. "Ca va?"

"Non!!!" Sobbed Larue, and began to slap Ace with both hands, though the impact was more like a cat pawing a toy. More French gibberish.

"Ow! Hey!!! The fuck??"

"He says you almost killed 'im, and he keeps trying to help but you just keep yelling at him." Veryl looked amused. Ace on the other hand, did not.

"Well, he almost frick'n shot me back at the house!"

"Since both of you are equally idiotic, I suppose you two can work things out, non?"

The string of words and crying had died down into pathetic hiccups, and he found the hands that were slapping him were now wound tightly in the fabric of his tear-soaked shirt. He wanted to yell at him to get his hands off, but something at the back of his mind tugged at him into feeling sympathy, and so he instead pat him on his back as one would burp a baby.

He always was a sucker for tears.

" 'ere, 'ave a cigarette." He watched in surprise as Larue accepted the cigarette Veryl had offered. Sure, every Spy he'd seen so far was a smoker, but he thought Larue was different.

"He smokes?"

"Well..." The REDspy looked like he didn't know what to say. "I suppose you could say zhat."

Looking back down he found the most absurd (well, aside from all those living corpses) thing he'd ever seen (and not including Medic in pantyhose). The Spy on his lap was nibbling on the cigarette, akin to a rabbit nibbling on a carrot.

"Eet's just a bad 'abit really." Explained Veryl as he expropriated Larue from Ace's lap. The BLU stood on wobbly legs, and Ace noticed, with slight annoyance, that the REDspy had his hand around his waist again. "I suggest we get on zhe go."

A good suggestion, since the banging on the shutters were getting louder and louder, and it didn't sound like it could hold.

At the other end of the warehouse was another shutter, half open and with another clover upon it. It too, only had three leaves on. They crawled under that shutter, not bothering to press the button for it lest it alerted the mob on the other side.

Ended up in an alleyway.

It was devoid of the rabid denizens, thankfully. The large van blocking the path to the right gave them little choice but to travel down the left. It was a long walk, the alley so narrow Ace was beginning to feel a little claustrophobic. All the while Larue was staring upwards, chewing nervously on the last bits of the cigarette.

No one said anything, just in case. Occasionally a howl or scream rang out from outside the alleyway. It made Larue freak, he was twisted his tie again, having been done with his cigarette. And by done it meant _eaten_ completely. Further down the alley the Spy was startled by an overturned garbage can and began to cloak and uncloak repetitively, like a broken light bulb.

Ace wondered what other bad habits he had.

He was about to smack the faulty Spy with his bat (it was starting to hurt his eyes) when suddenly they stopped in their tracks. At long last, they saw it---

_Four leafed clover._

_~*~_

oh god it updated. yes, hide your childrens.

Been dragging this chapter on for a week. When I write the draft for the story I finish a chapter in an hour or so, but when I have to refine the writing for the final draft my mind goes blank and youtube suddenly seems alot more interesting.

Someone smack me please.

**Notes:**

1) Quote from chapter 3's notes 'It wasn't intentional. Four isn't going to be like this. *n*'

Well, I lied. The title for this chapter corresponds to the chapter number as well.

2) WTF DOES _**CALLIPYGIAN**_ MEAN!???

It means one with bootifuly shaped buttocks. Scout, when did your vocabulary become so extensive.

3) Elle-for-dee = L4D = Left 4 Dead. You know you just love Veryl's accent.


	5. Strike 5

**Us Against The End**

Strike Five – Take Five(and put them in a car for greater effect)

The four leafed clover. At first it gave them a great sense of relief; but then no one really _did_ say it was a safe place. Now that it stood right before them they began having resentments about what lay behind the door.

Perhaps the people that had been hiding out in there had _turned_. What then? It'd be just them, the undead and a long dead ended alley behind their backs.

"Ya hear anything man?"

"Non, but maybe zhis door is far too thick."

" 'hat now, 'hat now???" Larue's cloaking blinked on and off, and Veryl shoved another cigarette into his mouth to keep him muted.

"Look, I will open zhe door. 'ace," He tossed the Scout the flashlight, "tell me quickly if zhere's any of zhose things inside. I will shut zhe door, zhen we run for zhe van at zhe ozher end."

"Gotcha." He gripped the flashlight tightly as Veryl placed his hand on the door handle. Nodding once, the Spy swung the door open.

The flashlight clicked on, and he squinted at what the circle of light illuminated. Nothing in there was moving.

Slowly, he took a step towards the door. He stopped just midway past the doorframe, carefully taking a moment to look around with the flashlight. Felt Veryl come in right beside him, and the lights flicked on.

"Fuck."

It appeared to be a small, empty café.

"Fuck."

Sometimes 'fuck' meant a good thing.

_Empty_ was the keyword here.

For a moment it made it seem like paradise.

~*~

He knew he should have just stuck with his own team, instead of rushing to his roost. Knew he shouldn't have bothered since the boy wasn't even wearing the same colour. Just like when he knew he should have just shot the bloody maniac the first time they met.

Then he wouldn't have to deal with this feeling of attachment. All it had given him was a bout of really bad luck.

But no, he had gone against everything he knew was right, and he had gone back for the kid.

He knew he shouldn't have gone into the infested city after the kid either, but he _had_.

And so here he was now, sitting on a lonely box of 'PEELS' (he wasn't quite aware of what 'PEELS' were, he never had the heart to check), atop the roof of what used to be an antique store.

The owner was a friendly old lady missing her lower jaw, but he'd had to shoot her when she made to jab him in the face with her walking stick. Sad, that. She'd reminded him of his mother.

This must be God's punishment. For not doing the right things.

Leaning forward on his seat he brought the scope back to eye level, returning to his previous task of taking potshots at the stumbling corpses down below. Not that it would help him in the very least; he didn't have enough ammo to take out the entire city's population anyway. But a target was a target, and he could never let a chance at adding one more head count to his chart pass by.

He'd probably sit there till his ammunition ran out. What then?

"Suppose I could live off some'a that tea in the billy downstairs." He mumbled to himself, taking a shot at a zombie who resembled his father.

"Yea, that'd be right."

~*~

Ace sank into the chair by the bar counter. Well, he sunk as much as he could into the hard ratten. After running through all that crap the chair was quite a luxury.

It was a small café, they probably had tables outside, but he couldn't really tell because the glass windows and very much been boarded up. The door leading out had been left unblocked, but they'd immediately fixed that by shoving a table against it.

The walls were vandalised with numerous words of encouragement.

'Welcome to the Four Leafed Clover suckers!'

'Don't give up.'

'Look after the cafe while we're gone.'

'WATCH OUT FOR THE TENTACLE ONES THEY TOTALLY RAPED ASH'S ASS'

'FUCK U.'

It seemed the cafe's previous guests were quite a fun bunch. He would've liked to meet them one day.

Alive.

"Hey!" He turned, resting an arm on the counter. "Any grub back there?"

Green eyes peered at him from behind the counter. "Non. Zhere eez eau zhough."

"Oo? What the heck is that?"

"Eau." Explained the BLU exasperatedly.

"He means water. Pass me some 'Rue."

A bottle of water promptly bounced harshly off the wall by Veryl's head and an exclamation of apology sounded from the BLU. Unperturbed, the Spy kicked the bottle up with the toe of his shoe and caught it with his free hand. Free, because he had a notebook in the other.

"What's that?" Asked Ace as he took a bottle of water from the counter himself, saving himself the trouble of having to dodge it if Larue 'passed' it over to him.

"Eck, zhis water iz _stale_." Veryl set the bottle down in disgust and lit another cigarette. "Found zhis by zhe door." He lifted the brown book up for Ace to see; 'READ BEFORE LEAVING' was written on the cover.

"Considerate, non?"

*BANG!*

It was loud, and crisp. Heads turned to the windows, even though they couldn't really see through them anymore. They waited, in silence, and then heard it again.

*BANG!*

"That's..."

"Angry people?"

"No-" Ace rolled his eyes at the BLU. "Shotgun?"

"Heh." Veryl smirked, shaking his head. "Rifle rounds." He'd snuck up behind enough Snipers to recognise the sound. It was loud, but the sound never scattered out like a shotgun.

"Cool! Is it Sniper?"

*BANG!*

"Non." The shots were too frequent. "Not ours." Their current Sniper liked to take his time between shots.

"Maybe we should call him over?"

"Not before I read zhis."

"But---"

"Shh!"

He began to read, and it didn't look like there was any chance for further conversation to Ace. So instead he turned his attention back to the one behind the counter.

"Hey twiggy."

"O-oui?" The face sank again below the counter, so that only those green eyes were visible. Somehow the Spy thought that would make him magically disappear. He would've been more successful just by cloaking.

"How'd you become a Spy anyway?"

He waited as the eyes stared back at him miserably, contemplating if that was a question he should answer. The academy had taught them never to disclose personal information to anyone, and that included people they knew.

But then again, he was officially the worst Spy the world would ever see. He supposed then he didn't really have anything to _lose_.

"Well---"

~*~

Bull's eye! Yet again. He never missed a shot. But his targets weren't much of a challenge, bumbling around as they were. Setting the scope to his eye again, he scanned the undead for his next target. There, another bloke who reminded him of his father. Basically, that meant any male with greying hair.

"Another for the books..."

Finger on the trigger. And then---

Just as he was about to pull the trigger his target was lost in a crowd of suddenly running undead. He looked at the direction they were running at, and saw a lone figure prancing down the street, head on against the stampeding zombies.

The figure looked starkly familiar.

He looked through his scope just to make sure.

White coat. Check. Red gloves. Check. Glasses. Check.

Maniacal grin.

_Check_.

"It's that bloody wanker!"

The bonesaw swung around freely, as said wanker jumped all too earnestly into the crowd. Unconsciously he found himself rising from his homey seat of PEELS, kukri at the ready. He stopped himself at the top of the stairs leading back down to the antique shop.

To retrieve, or _not _to retrieve?

He sighed, looking up to the sky as he adjusted his hat.

He supposed he could endure another one of God's punishments.

~*~

It was a little hard to understand everything he said, because as he talked more his accent became heavier and more words were being steadily replaced by French. That was okay though. Someone said before that pictures spoke a thousand words. Well, those green eyes spoke a _million_.

He didn't have to understand what he was saying word for word. He felt if the Spy was a mute he's still be able to understand him just by looking at his eyes.

Right now the eyes were pouring forth a sort of helpless anxiety as he recounted how he had been called to the office back at the academy. His life story so far had been pathetic.

The man was never made to be a Spy. He'd just spilled an entire load of personal information to an enemy Scout. Veryl would have never done that. He wouldn't even tell his own teammates.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!"

A loud bump signalled Larue knocking his head as he ducked behind the counter, startled by the sudden scream.

"The fuck is that!??" Ace got up from his seat, walking over to the boarded windows. There he peeped out through a gap between the boards. "Shit man, they're like, charging at something." He tried to see what they were running towards, but the little gap just wasn't big enough.

"Hm." Veryl sat there thoughtfully, cigarette dangling from his lips. "Zhere must be something human out zhere. Maybe zhe one with zhe rifle 'as fallen from 'is perch." He concluded placidly, returning to the notebook in his hands.

"Huh? Hey, then shouldn't we---"

"_Non_." Replied Veryl curtly, not even looking up from the notebook. It bordered along the lines of 'I'm warning you'. Ace had the image of the masked man pushing him out while he opened the door, and locking it before he could change his mind about playing hero. That curbed the urge to go out there, somewhat.

Yourself above the rest. Larue had told him that was one of the golden rules they'd been reminded daily back at the academy. If the team was being cornered in a tight situation, a Spy was taught to fall back on his own, leaving his teammates for dead.

He was quite surprised Veryl hadn't just taken Larue with him, actually. After all, they could very well avoid confrontation by simply cloaking.

" 'ee eez not like zhat." Whispered Larue to him, when he'd told him what he thought. He wrenched at the tie at his neck, looking desperate to prove him wrong. "Veryl eez a kind person."

"Hmph." He snorted, turning away to stare at the windows. It was then he noticed that amidst the sounds of animalistic growling he heard the faint sound of laughter.

"Hey. Did you hear that man?"

" 'hich man?" Enquired the BLU Spy, blinking.

"Ugh, never mind."

He was probably just tired.

~*~

They were all concentrated on one spot, enough of them to fill a minimart. Luckily though none of them seemed to notice him coming out from the antique shop.

He brought out his submachine gun. There wasn't any time to pick them off one by one, the kid couldn't last that long. It was a good thing, he noticed, that these zombies were not of the biting kind. Unlike in 'Shaun of Dead' they only resorted to beating down upon their victims with hands, feet, and in other instances, objects.

Praying the bodies of the zombies were enough to shield the kid from his spray of bullets he opened fire. It was an obnoxiously noisy affair. With only a few left standing he leapt forward, chopping them down with his kukri.

"Hoons." Muttered the Australian as he kicked at the pile of deader undead. After going through all that trouble he hoped he hadn't suffocated under the pile of meat. Maybe he was suffocating this very moment. He got on his knees and hastened his search.

"Hullo." He saw a red glove and made to pull at it, when bonesaw flew out from the pile and made contact with his cheek.

"Bloody hell!" He cursed, bringing a hand up to the wound were it wept blood.

A head full of messy, mahogany hair pushed up from under the bodies and the Sniper found himself greeted with a smile so winsome and wide it was just uncanny.

"Hallo!" The head cocked to one side curiously, and the strange yellow eyes traversed the span of the Australian's face.

"You haff bleedingk dere." Informed the Medic, pointing to the spot on his own face with the bonesaw precariously close. "Vhy?"

The Sniper was going to berate him on how dangerous waving the bonesaw around randomly was, and how it was even worse running straight into a horde of undead, but the boy was already rambling on about something else altogether.

"You see cadavarss?" He asked next, stabbing into flesh with his bonesaw. "Zey is movingk!" He sounded fascinated, poking around the bodies like a child playing in a sandbox. "Pepin vish to kill zhem all." Something dark clouded those eyes for a second.

"_Take zhem apart_."

It always sent shivers down his spine, when he saw that slightly sadistic side of the doctor. His unpredicted switches in personality gave him the impression he'd be turned on one day. Not in a 'Spy betrayal' way, but more of a 'my dog got rabies and bit me' way.

Which reminded him he was still sitting in a pile of dead meat.

"Up with'ya now, yer bloody bastard!" He brought the other up by the scruff of his coat, which made him giggle. "I don't know why I bother with'ya." Sighed the Sniper as he tried to brush blood stains off his jeans, to little effect of course. Looked up at the Medic to find his white lab coat speckled all over with red, and decided his jeans were quite fine. No one would really notice the stains, not when he was standing next to the doctor.

"Look at ya. You look'ike something the Bluey dragged'in." The RED was clutching his side as if it hurt (he was smiling though, so he wasn't sure) and had a black eye, the glass on his spectacles cracked. He knew the Medic could see perfectly well without them, but he'd tried to take them off for him the last time they were broken and all it earned him was a nasty kick in the nuts.

Whoever said 'kindness begets kindness' had never babysit Pepin the Medic before.

"It hurt?" He asked.

"Ja," Tittered the doctor. "iz _delightingk_."

"Whatta fruit loop."

Now that he had a companion there was more to life than just sitting on a box of unknown products atop an antique store taking potshots at zombies that resembled his father. He surveyed the street, but not before taking hold of the Medic's arm. Wasn't going to let him out of his reach again.

"Which way ya reckon leads outta here?"

"Can I heff gun?"

"No, you cannot."

Ignoring the pouting Medic he began dragging him back towards the antique shop. Figured it would be easier to decide on a general direction if he were alleviated.

The ground rumbled before he heard the screaming, and that was before he turned and saw what was coming round the corner of the street.

Ah yes. Here it was.

God's second punishment.

~*~

Veryl closed the notebook, pocketing it.

It was quiet again. There was the sound of rapid fire just now, and then the growls of the undead had disappeared. Either the people (so he assumed) had apprehended the zombies, or had been apprehended themselves.

"Finished your 'novel'?" Asked Ace, in a voice considerably softer than usual. He looked past the Scout to find the BLUspy snoozing on the counter and grinned to himself.

"A brilliant read." He replied, "We need to find un véhicule."

"Crap." Ace thought back about all those cars abandoned near the warehouse entrance. "We gotta go back there?"

"Hm." Veryl got up from his seat to the windows, peering out through the gap between the boards. "Zhere is anozher street on zhis side of zhe café. Zhere should be cars zhere as well. Maybe it iz safe to go out now..."

The ground began to rumble.

The screams awoke the one napping on the counter, causing him to injure his head again on the way down to his hiding spot.

"What the fuck was that?"

Ace had gotten up as well, when a loud roar shook the small café.

" 'ace---"

He never did get to hear what the Spy was saying to him, because in the following seconds there was nothing but the sound of shattering glass ringing in his ears, and the sight of the café going up in concrete and dust.

"Ace??? Ver???" Larue.

"Ow fuck!" Cursing.

"Merde..." French.

"Bloody hell!" Australian.

Wait a second---

He opened his eyes. A large concrete slab had crashed into the windows, rendering the wooden boards completely useless. It had ended its route at the counter, lifted up merely by a corner. Veryl was right below it. The Spy had almost been crushed.

He himself had been thrown to the floor, and as he got up on his elbows he saw a man picking himself up from behind the counter where Larue was.

The BLU's Sniper.

He hadn't really seen the Sniper's face clearly before, too busy running as he was, but he recognised the uniform and the colour it was in. He was missing his hat, though he still had his sunglasses on.

"G'day." Greeted the man, reaching up to tip his hat but finding he didn't have one anymore. He looked around the ruined café, when suddenly another roar hit them.

The Sniper hopped over the counter, rushing to the broken windows.

"Pepi!" He hollered, sounding a little pissed. "You get back here right now!" No, he sounded more than pissed. He sounded like a mom who was mad at her son for playing outside in the rain.

"Shhhhh!" Hissed Veryl, who had evicted himself from under the concrete slab. "Quiet! Or zhat thing will come over 'ere!"

"What thing---oh." Ace's question was answered as he glanced outside. There, was the hulking figure of what resembled the Tank from Left 4 Dead. Only it was a she, as he concluded from a certain pair of chesticles.

Something else he noticed was the figure of a man running towards them waving a hat in his hand. As he got closer he realized it was in fact their Medic, and that he was leading the giant she-Tank straight at them.

"Imbecile!!!" Veryl had foreseen this happening when the Sniper had called out to the Medic, and was holding the door to the alleyway open. "Out!" He ordered, pushing Larue out the door. " 'ace! Out!"

He didn't really have to comply though, because the she-Tank was upon them in an instant, crashing into the café. Somehow the force at which she, _it_, had come at them sent him hurtling out the door.

They ended up in a heap in the alleyway, Ace atop Veryl, followed by the Medic, and garnished with a dash of Sniper. Larue had the blinking thing going on again, as he looked on nervously.

"I heff hat!" Proclaimed the Medic cheerfully in Ace's face.

"Fuck you."

The doctor giggled, and he growled, shoving the German's face out of his sight.

"I would like for all of you _gentlemen_ to get off me." Came the slightly strained voice at the very bottom of the pile.

They scrambled to their feet, and the Sniper helped the squashed Spy to his feet.

"Sorry mate---Hey, you're that bugger 'keeps tryin' ta stab me in the back!"

Veryl gave a sly little grin as he pat dust off his suit. He was about to say something smart assed, like how he could have but just didn't want to stab him in the back, but they were running down the alleyway because the Tank-rina had regained its footing and was breaking the wall that separated the cafe from the alleyway.

The narrow alley would slow it down. They retreated under the half closed shutters into the warehouse, and ran straight ahead in the dark till the sound of somebody smashing into the closed shutters on the other side signalled they had reached the end of the warehouse.

"Frick'n ow!!

"Being zhe first has its repercussions, non?" Teased Veryl.

"You frick'n shape shift'n rat!"

The shutters clattered as the ground shook once again.

"Bloody thing's gettin' nearer!"

They groped around for the shutter button, the flashlight having been left at the cafe. One of them found it, and a ray of light marked the floor as the shutters began to rise.

They made it to the other side without much trouble. The crowd of fanatic undead had dispersed by now, but they would notice them before long. They had to get out soon.

"We need a car." Said Veryl, as he retrieved his revolver from its holster.

"Hey man, you're limping." Ace had only just noticed it. There was definitely something wrong with his right leg. Not even a Spy could correct a limp with his skills of pretending.

"You're 'eavy." He barked irritably.

"What! In case you didn't notice I had a frick'n madman and an Australian on me! He must be stuffed with barbeque!"

"Oi!"

The sound of shutters being torn apart, accompanied by a roar echoed through the warehouse.

" 'urry!!!" Urged Larue, who had once again attached himself to the other Spy's arm. "Eet eez coming!" He stated the obvious.

"Quickly, pick zhe car, I can hotwire it."

The Sniper gestured to a random car that already had its doors open. "Get'in then!"

" 'hat." Veryl stooped a little to check the front of the car. "You pick zhe 'yundai?" He huffed, shaking his head. "I only ride in véhicules of French _class_."

"Wotever," Muttered the BLU sharpshooter, getting out of the rejected car and thwacking at an undead with his kukri to get to another one. "This outta do it."

"Zhe Mercedes iz _not_ French." Said the Spy with a deadpan look. He sounded offended.

"Mercedes iz from mozherland!" Said the Medic, swiping at the car's side with his bonesaw.

"Just pick a frick'n car guys..." Ace turned back to look at the warehouse. It looked like the beast had gotten stuck in the shutters they had gotten out from. They wouldn't hold for much longer though.

"Fine!" Once again the Australian searched out for another car. He stopped by a yellow Peugeot, slapping the hood of the car with his hand. "This good enuf for'ya?"

"Zhat iz a 'orrible colour." Complained Veryl with a look of disgust on his face.

"You blasted figjam! Go pick outt'a car yourself!"

The 'figjam' smirked at the Sniper's outburst, and shimmied down the street at a leisurely pace , pointing at a maroon coloured Citroën a few feet away. "Zhere, zhat one iz perfe---"

His perfect car crumpled under a mass of discarded warehouse shutters. They looked behind themselves and saw the monster bounding towards them.

"JUST FRICK'N GET IN A CAR YOU STUPID IDIOTS!"

Taking the good Scout's advice they crammed into the nearest one, a purple Honda Jazz. Medic was the last one in; he had to be dragged away from his sudden fascination with some cracks in the pavement.

"Pick up the pace you frick'n French snob!!!"

"Quiet! Zhis is a form of arte---"

The car bounced as the giant approached. The four (well, three not including the bemused Medic) pressed for the Frenchman to forget the ways of elegance and etiquette and just hotwire the damned car.

"Can I kill ze big cadavar?" Inquired the German, who was now donning Sniper's hat.

"NO!" A simultaneous answer. At least the Sniper and the Spy were on the same level of thinking there.

"RAWRRRRRRGHHHH" A large shadow fell over them, as gigantic arms raised up to pound down on the car.

"HOLY SHIT---!!!!!"

There was a zapping sound, and the gears cranked into action, jerking the car forward before it could be crushed under bulging muscle.

"Good on'ya, mate! Know how'ta drive?"

"Watch the frick'n left!"

The car swerved in a wide arc, barely missing a collapsed tree.

"I 'ave a license." Replied the one at the wheel haughtily, looking like he couldn't believe they were doubting his skills for even a moment. The car jerked and stuttered as he changed the gears and repeatedly mistook the brakes for the accelerator, and they ran over some unsuspecting zombified pedestrians.

Ace turned, shoving the hat on Medic's head out of the way so he could see out the back window.

"Frick'n thing's still on our tail man!"

"Bloody thing gunna chas'us all the way?"

"Quiet! I cannot concentrate!" The car jerked violently to an abrupt stop. "Oh merde!" Some cursing in foreign language, and the car picked up speed again. The short stop was enough for the giant zombie to get dangerously close to them.

"The fuck man! Stop braking you frick'n fruit tart!"

" Hallo!!!!" The doctor had his head out the window and was waving at the thing behind them. It only fuelled the beast's desire to hunt them down more, and it began tossing pieces of pavement at them.

Really, this was teamwork at its best.

"...rels." The Spy who'd been whimpering with his hands covering his ears all this time finally decided it was a good time to speak up.

"What??? Speak the fuck up!!!" He punched the twiggy Frenchman in the gut, because he felt like punching something in this situation. "All I hear is mm mm mm are you a frick'n Pyro!?

"Barrels!" Yelped Larue, bringing his hands to his stomach.

"SPEAK LOUDER GODAMNNIT!" The Scout also felt like yelling, even though he had already heard him the second time.

"BARRELS!!!" Shrieked the Spy, flinching. But Ace didn't punch him a second time, because he was leaning forward in his seat and pointing out the barrels to the two occupying the front seats.

"Barrels to the right!"

Veryl completely ignored him, too engrossed in trying to drive straight. Sniper, however, was rolling down the windows and retrieving his rifle.

"Can you hit it? What the shit Veryl, stop driving like a drunk fuck!"

"SEELANCE!"

"Eezen hits anyzhing!" Laughed the doctor, imitating a sniper rifle with his bonesaw to his eye.

"Yer Medic took'tha words right outta my mouth." Chuckled the Australian as he propped the rifle up against the car window, bringing scope to eye as they whizzed pass the red barrels.

And then he waited.

"What are you waiting for, Christmas!??? Frick'n fatty to come down the chimney with presents!???" Ah yes. Santa. The Scout still had a grudge against the fictional character. As a boy he'd stayed up waiting under the tree, but the man in red never did come.

"Patience." Replied the Sniper simply, watching the giant through his scope close in on them.

"I 'ant to go 'ome." Bawled Larue as he clung onto Ace's arm, much to his displeasure.

"JUST SHOOT ALREADY!"

"I just hope there's fuel in the barrel." Commented the Sniper under his breath.

And then he pulled the trigger.

~*~

Lots of Milo, chocolate, shopping, and a carwash (as in, me doing the work mind you) later I give you this. The fifth installment of my failfic.

Now loaded with more fail!

Anyway, enter Sniper and Medic. It wouldn't be TF2 without them. *u* Makes me revved up to write the next chapter already. 8P

A'ight, here are the notes.

**Notes:**

1) Sniper's accent. I've decided to go with gentle strine, with a little British because Sniper sounds like a Brit trying to imitate an Australian honestly.

I wanted to make him sound reeeeally Aussie at first, but would you guys like to decipher phrases such as this through out the fic?

"Spaisgey!? Eikan'ardly bleevit!"

Btw it translates to "Spy's gay!? I can hardly believe it!"

2) Wot's the bloody madman's name again? Medic's name is Pepin. It's of German origin (also French?) and means ardent (fervently devoted to something). Sniper shortens his name to 'Pepi'

3) What's BLUsniper doing with REDmedic???

Naughty things, I assure you. (just pullin' yer leg. and not going to tell you. *u*)

4) Does Sniper have a name? He sure does! I think it was mentioned _once _ in the fic. Go give it a look see.

5) The car. The purple Honda Jazz. It's my mom's first and new car. 8) Give it a look! Not exactly the comfiest car for five grown men.

6) What's a Bluey? It's basically a dog.

7) SEELANCE!!!! Er---what? That's just 'silence' but in Veryl's pissed French accent. 8)


	6. Strike 6

**Us Against The End**

Strike Six – Feeling sixteen again tastes like chicken

*BAM!*

A moment of disorientation, cursing and a fray of misplaced limbs.

"You said you had a frick'n license."

"Oui, I did."

"Really now?"

"I never said it was _real_."

"Bloody Spy..."

The barrel _had_ contained fuel, or at least something explosive. They had watched in joy and relief as the oversized zombie had gone up in flames.

"Here's to you, frick'n bitch!" Ace had hollered in mirth. If there was alcohol they would have been drinking to a perfectly executed escape.

But one should never count their chicks before they hatch. Or in this case, celebrate before realizing who was in the driver's seat.

They made a spectacular escape, worthy of being in a James Bond movie. The barrel sent rotting flesh and rubble flying behind them. It was the most awesome scene Ace had seen in real life since the second Pyro he'd met got a chicken stuck in his flamethrower.

Of course, at this moment of victory the Spy at the wheel decided to have a celebratory smoke. He casually let go of the steering wheel, fished the lighter out and lit his expensive cigarette. He sat back then, forgetting that he wasn't in an expensive French car, with an expensive driver at the wheel.

They crashed spectacularly into a tree.

In all honesty, no one had expected for things to go down this way, after having escaped quite unscathed from a gigantic hulking giant of a mutated life form. Maybe except Larue, of course, who was always pessimistic and calling out for Veryl to watch the wheel. No one really heard him though.

The Scout was the first to move. Kicking as hard as he could at the driver's seat with their Medic across his lap he magically turned into a fountain of eternal swearing.

"You frick'n fuck of a frick'n fuck'n rat!!!!"

Great use of alliteration too. If only his literature teacher could see him now.

"Quiet!!!" Hissed the one in the driver's seat. His head hurt where it had hit the steering wheel, and his sprained ankle felt more twisted than it had previously. Before dealing with that, and the constant shaking of his Scout-abused seat, he quickly looked at himself in the mirror.

Vanity told him to lift his balaclava a bit to see if there was a mark on his forehead, but professionalism prevented him from doing so. Instead he rolled the seat as far back as it could go, revelling at the sound of pain from where it had hit a knee-high sock clad leg.

"Now, now mates." The resident Sniper adjusted the hat on his head. "No need'ta squabble like fun-deprived sheilas. I say the best solution to this is ta let me drive," He nodded to himself, "been'on the road far longer than you ever will." He nodded to the REDspy.

" 'hat??? Non." Veryl clung to the steering wheel like a child does his brand new toy.

"I think w'all established the fact that y'can't drive, Spy." Said the Aussie dryly.

"I _can_ drive." Insisted the Spy. There wasn't anything Veryl could not accomplish. Oh no. "Zhis iz all _your_ fault." He added, folding his arms. He wanted to cross his legs, but knee met dashboard and he set the leg down, holding a passive face as he let out a groan of pain in his mind.

"What?" The BLUsniper was getting pissed. He was a patient man, usually. He had endured the opposing team's mad Medic's bizarre antics. But this Spy was really wearing that patience down to a thin piece of thread.

"I told you to pick zhe French car, non? But nonononono," A gloved finger waggled in his direction, "you pick _zhis_, zhis Honda---"

"Why you---!!!" Patience went straight out the window.

This time Ace had to interfere to prevent the men from tearing each other's throats out. It was a strange feeling, since he was usually the one who had to be pulled from a brawl.

"Calm down you fucktards!" He yelled, pulling them apart with a hand on each shoulder.

"Don't touch my suit," Veryl brushed his hand off like it was some splat of an awfully large bird dropping. "just so you know, zhis is _your_ fault as well!!"

Unlike the good Sniper, the Scout wasn't as patient and immediately lunged at the secret agent. "My fault!?? _MY_ FAULT!?? THIS IS ALL YOUR FRICK'N FAULT MAN!"

"Watch zhe suit!!!"

"Back off boy, I call dibs on strangling the wankah!"

The pleasant sounds of the men bonding escalated to the highest of highs when their Medic decided to join in by screaming random words in German.

At this time, Larue decided he had to warn his companions that there were still undead in the current area, and that their racket was attracting them towards the car.

"Mon amis---" He squeaked.

"Schwein!!!!"

"Hold still mate, so I can strangle you properly!"

"Get off my suit, and admit your shortcomings!"

"rumbeißen!!!"

"Zhe undead---"

"I'm gunna bat your frick'n skull in you vain, ungrateful---"

"Geschlecht!"

"Let's say you hold the sneaky wanker down and I---"

"Hey no man, _you_ hold him down and _I'll_---"

"anscheißen!!!"

Of course, the poor BLUspy's warnings were unheard, as usual.

Eventually the three of them stopped their merry making, when an undead threw itself against the windshield.

They put their little differences aside for a moment. A moment later they were on the road again, with Sniper at the wheel. He was his usual self again, but the Spy still sat with his arms folded, a disgruntled look on his face. Ace noted this new facial expression with a snort. Veryl was used to getting exactly what he wanted back at the fort and probably the academy, but things were a lot different now.

For one, he didn't think the undead would bring them their food at a restaurant.

They'd probably have to make their own food as well. The undead were really lacking in the service sector.

It was a good thing the car only received a large dent in the front from the crash. As Veryl showed them the small map in the notebook he'd pocketed they realized they had a long drive ahead of them.

The next supposed 'safe point' was located in a large city across the sea. A long straight road would lead them to a highway bridge that would bring them across the ocean and back into the hands of safety.

At least, that was the plan.

"But where the hell are we?" Ace had been scrutinizing the map for a while now, but he didn't recognize any of the landmarks. Neither had the Sniper, or the REDspy. And if Veryl couldn't pinpoint a location, well read as he was, there really was no point trying.

" 'hat eev zhis place we are in does not exist???" Inquired Larue, who'd taken a look at the map and was back in his seat, nibbling at the tips of his gloves. " 'hat if _we_ do not really exist???"

"Hold your horses there mate," Laughed the Sniper, "this ain't twilight zone!"

"Not twilight!" Said the Medic, grabbing the map. "Zhis ist Disneyland!!!" He circled a finger around an area on the map, making an imaginary hidden Mickey shape even though there weren't any visible circular islands.

"Maybe you're right, Pepi." Chuckled the Sniper, shaking his head as he did. Like he'd heard such nonsense from the German before, and was already too used to it to try to make sense of it.

"Pepi?" Ace had heard the BLUsniper call their Medic by that name before, but he wasn't really paying attention, bogged down by all the undead and whatnot. "Is that Medic's name?"

"Ja!" Proclaimed the Medic, rearing up and tipping Sniper's hat in a very cowboy-like manner. "I am ze Ezhan, I like riding ze cows."

"I'm not a cowboy, and Eithan's my name, not _yours_."

"Iz vhat I said. Zhis iz a cowman's hat."

"It's_ not_." Sighed the Aussie.

Larue gave a little giggle at the exchange the two were having about the hat. Ace glanced at him from the corner of his eye. The Spy hadn't laughed or smiled ever since he met him. It was a refreshing sight from the usual 'something is going to kill us all' look.

"Your name's Pepin, not California."

From hats they had transcended to what the Medic's name really was. They sounded like they were old acquaintances revisiting an old topic.

"But ich vant to be ein country." Whined the Medic. He leaned forward, peeking out by Veryl's shoulder. The Spy didn't seem to mind the weight upon his arm. "Can ich be ein country, Spy?"

"As long as if it izn't France." Veryl gave Pepin a pat on the head, taking the opportunity to take the hat off, donning it himself. "You can be Australia, of course."

"No Pepi, you want to be Paris." The Sniper glared at the REDspy, his displeasure becoming more apparent when he found his hat upon that mask-clad head. "Give it, me hat!"

" 'hat, _zhis_ hat?" Veryl played with the hat on his head, displaying a faux clueless expression.

"Yes, _that_ hat. I'll not'ave a Spy, 'specially not a RED one wearing me hat!"

"So I can't wear zhis 'at, but our RED Medic apparently can?"

"Coz Pepin's less of an asshole than you are! Heh."

Veryl ignored the cheeky comment from the Scout. He went straight to the point instead. " 'ow come you of all people know our Medic's name, 'hen even we do not?"

Ace took a moment to think about the question the Spy had put forward. Why was he being so suspicious of the Sniper? Sure, he is, _was_ a BLU, but Pepin probably told him his name when they had met along the way. They weren't in the fort anymore anyway. Secrecy over personal information was no longer necessary.

"He told me!" Growled the Aussie, as he turned to stare at the road straight ahead.

"Back at zhe chicken coop?"

The car veered slightly to the right.

"What chicken coop?" A hand rose up and scratched his chin conspicuously. He saw Pepin opening his mouth to speak in the rear mirror, and grabbed the hat from Veryl's head, tossing it to the doctor. Distracted by the hat, again, the Medic stopped whatever he was about to say.

"Pepi told me."

"Mm hm." The Spy folded his arms, looking at the Sniper with a cocked eyebrow.

"Back there."

"By zhere, you mean at zhe f---"

"In the small city, now stop askin'me ya meaningless questions!" He veered the vehicle roughly towards the left, so that the interrogator more or less slammed into the car door. Instead of being prissy and complaining though, there was a grin on the Spy's face.

It was the type of grin one had when one had successfully guessed the outcome of a thriller, suspense movie. Or in Veryl's case, the type of grin he had when he knew Ace was jumping the bandwagon and reading books like 'Twilight'.

That grin made him think about what the Spy had asked the Sniper. Seemed like harmless questions, but he felt his was missing something...

~*~

"I'm bored." Announced the Medic, plopping down onto Ace's lap, much to his annoyance. They had exchanged names properly by now. "Play vith me! Geeve me your hett." He pawed at the Scout's cap insistently and Ace tried to shake those gloved hands off.

"Stop it man." He shoved at Pepin, but more playfully than forcefully. The German was kind of like the team's pet dog back at the fort. A little strange in the head but friendly, teammates learnt to get used to him after a while. Even Veryl, usually keeping to himself, made it a point to help the Medic do his tie. He wasn't much use healing on the battlefield, but he sure knew how to deal some serious damage with whatever he had.

Scrap 'pet dog'.

He was their _hunting hound_.

Now that he thought about it, he'd seen very little of the Medic in the past few months. Sometimes he wouldn't see him for days, and they'd think he had perished in battle. But he would pop up again somewhere on the battlefield or in the base, telling them otherwise.

Maybe he was just...playing hide and seek?

He supposed he'd never know.

"Geeve me ze hett!" Pepin was tugging at his headset roughly.

"Ouch, stop it! Fine, I'll give you the frick'n hat!" He shoved the cap into the Medic's face, muffling the triumphant giggles. Beside him he heard more giggling, and turned to glare at Larue.

"What the hell are you laughing at? I have frick'n hat hair don't I? Don't I!??" The Spy stopped laughing and placed his hands over his mouth, nodding diligently.

There was a reason why he never took his hat off once he put it on. He ruffled his hair out in frustration.

"Feral." Said the Medic suddenly, after setting the cap and headset upon his head. There was no response from anyone in the car, though Larue did look out all the windows for something feral following them.

It seemed the other three of them understood that Pepin sometimes said random words. Randomly.

"Feral!" He said again, this time leaning forward and popping his head by Veryl's shoulder again. The Spy blinked, then nodded to himself. Feral. Veryl. Similar sounding, he reasoned with himself.

Well, no, not really. He'd heard his name being mangled by different people before, but this had to be the most twisted.

"Oui, Pepin?" He replied finally, when the German was grinding his uberchin into his shoulder.

"I sing ein song for you, do you know ze song about ze bottles?"

"Bottles?"

"No!" Yelled Sniper, waving his hands madly for Veryl to deny the Medic this song.

The Spy grinned. If this song made the Sniper so unhappy, it must be worth listening to.

"Humour me, bébé."

~*~

The drive wore on. It was straight road, and nothing much else. Nothing much else but singing, of course.

"EEGHTY EGHT BOTTLES OFF BEER ON ZE WALL, EGHTY EGHT BOTTLES OF BEER, TAKE ONE DOWN UND PASS EET AROUND. EGHTY SIEBEN BOTTLES OFF---"

Veryl groaned, holding his head in his hands. He was regretting this. The Aussie didn't even look half as disturbed as he was hoping him to be. It wasn't worth it. He regretted everything!!!

"EEGHTY FUIVE BOTTLES OFF---"

"OHGOD OHGOD JUST SHUT THE HELL UP, SHUT THE FIRCK'N HELL UP!!!" Ace couldn't take much more of this. The Medic had been singing the song for forever. He was almost done the first time, but he had lost count at bottle number thirty six and decided to restart. They tried to turn on the radio, but all they had was static, and no matter how much they cranked up the volume it couldn't drown out the German's singing.

"EEGHTY---"

"SHUT IT!!!!!" The Scout clamped a hand tightly against Pepin's mouth, keeping it there even when he felt teeth pricking his skin through the thick bandages. "Good boy!" He said, even as the 'good boy' struggled to get him in the privates. "Now stay this way!"

"Ah yes," Chuckled Eithan, "This reminds me of tha'old days, back when I was sixteen."

"Poor thing." Lamented Veryl, voice dripping with fake sympathy. "Already in the looney 'ouse filled 'ith singing madmen at sixteen?"

"No, me an' my mates would go on long roadtrips jus'fer fun. Sang songs like this together. Pissed the hell outta each other we did."

"I do 'ope you were not zhe one who taught our Medic zhis song."

The Sniper didn't answer, instead asking, "What were you others doing at sixteen?"

"I 'as at zhe academy." The BLUspy was the first to answer. The academy. From what Ace had heard back at the cafe, Larue didn't exactly have the time of his life there. "But Veryl 'as zhere 'ith me. It 'as better zhen." He didn't say what was better then, but Ace more or less knew from what bits and pieces the Spy had told him.

Mainly it had to do with bullying.

"Mmhm." Said Veryl, stopping at that. As usual the Frenchman was unwilling to indulge others with tales of his persona; background.

"Rows und rows of vhite." Said Pepin, when Ace's hand slackened against his mouth. Rows of white? Was that an answer to the Sniper's question? It didn't make any sense though. Most likely just another random string of words.

"Was back home." The Scout was the last to speak. The others had all fallen completely silent now, and were probably caught up too much in other thoughts to hear him, but he spoke anyway. "We were all there, then."

Home. How long had it been since he'd gone back home? About two and a half years? There were others in the team who had been at the fort longer than him. Veryl for instance. He seemed almost veteran at the fort. The Medic was there before him as well. The Sniper himself looked as if he'd seen far too many victims through the scope of his rifle. And Larue...wasn't at the fort for very long. But he didn't once mention his family when he talked about the academy. Did the Spies there ever get to go home every once in a while?

Maybe some of them didn't even _have_ families to go back to.

Just when Ace was getting sentimental, the car jerked to an abrupt stop and threw him into the front. His voice came out as a strained "Oof!", the hand brake sticking into his gut. "Th-the hell happened?" He asked, as he was tugged harshly back into his seat by the helpful Medic. "Oof!!", again.

" 'hat 'appened?" The Scout's question was repeated with a French accent. Eithan leaned back in his seat and gave a dreadful sigh. He turned the key and the car gave a hopeful whir, but fell silent again in a second.

"Fuel's out." Replied the Sniper.

"Pfft is zhat all." Said The Spy, the worry on his face fading. He reached into his pocket and drew out the notebook. Flipping the pages with a forefinger he found the map and tossed it into Eithan's lap. "Zhere's a petrol station some'here along zhe road."

"Is there now?" He looked at the Spy from the side of his glasses. "I'sppose you're expecting us to go out an'get some while you stay here like a lazy bummer."

"Not _lazy_, I'm doing you all a faveur by watching zhe car."

"Whatever man." Ace reached over Pepin and opened the door, rolling the Medic out with a thump onto the road. He got out and stretched out his limbs. "Legs were gettin' stiff, ugh."

"Ya better not pull anything funny on us." Warned the Sniper as he, too, got out of the car.

"I won't, as long as if 'Rue is with you."

"I-I 'ant to stay 'ere!!" Cried the Spy, clutching to his seat belt.

"Non, go out and get some fresh 'air. Get me some ice."

Ace dragged the reluctant Spy out of the car. "Don't worry man," He reassured, "you got Ace with ya."

The two of them followed after Eithan, with Pepin behind them. He walked along the white line in the middle of the road, with his hands stretched out, saw held in one of them.

It was hot. Strangely the Autumn air they had felt earlier on was washed away by the blaring Sun. Around them there was nothing but barren land. They saw a few zombies in the distance, but they didn't seem to notice them.

As they walked along he found the Spy using his right arm as a shield from the bright light. He grinned, remembering how his ex-girlfriend had done the same on bright sunny days. That was a long time ago though. When he was still in high school. He looked down and noticed green eyes studying the ink in his skin.

"Like it?" He asked out of the blue, startling the other. Larue cast his eyes down, as if guilty for looking without permission. "I like it." He said softly, still staring at his moving feet. "I like zhe rose."

"Yeah?" Ace beamed, flexing his arm. It was a tattoo of a rose, its thorny vines winding around a baseball bat, leading down through a letter 'A'. "My bro did it. He's a tattoo artist." He added proudly.

"You 'ave a brozher?"

"Hell, I've got seven of them frick'n assholes. Last of the pack." He thumped his chest with a fist for emphasis. "But they're cool to have around."

Those eyes glanced at him for a second before returning to their fixed points on the ground. "Zhat eez nice." And the Spy gave a little melancholic smile.

"Hey, you know what?"

"Hm?" Larue looked up then.

"You should smile more often. Looks good on ya."

"Huh?"

"Just sayin'..." The Scout scratched his head, then turned and ran towards Pepin, who had fallen behind. "Pepin, come on man!"

The Spy stood there, blinking his large, green eyes.

~*~

It was a 15 minute walk. Only because they had to constantly backtrack for the Medic, who would stop by a stone on the road, a clump of feathers, a thorn bush and basically anything that caught his eye. Ace could have easily made the distance in three minutes.

The petrol station was like any usual outpost, with a little minimart. They filled an empty gas can up. Two, for safe measure.

"That should do it."

*GROOOOOOOOOOOWL*

Larue jumped, grabbing Ace's arm. He looked around frantically, chewing on a gloved finger. " 'hat 'as zhat!!?"

*GROOOOOOOOOOOOOOWL* Came the sound again. Larue looked like he wanted to sink into Ace's arm right then.

"Ich habe Hunger." Said Pepin, sadly, _almost._ Ace had never seen the Medic so upset for all the time he'd known him.

"What? What's the matter man?"

"Oh he's just hungry." Eithan capped the second can they'd filled before turning to the German. "No need'ta pull a long face, that minimart should have some food."

"Food?" Remarked the Medic, brightening up with his toothy grin.

"Now Pepi, we'll go in together, in case there's some---Pepi?"

Pepin bounded up towards the Minimart, crashing through the glass door and landing flat on the floor.

"Pepi you crazy bastard!!" They ran up to him, avoiding the glass he was shaking off as they helped him up.

"Use the door man!!" Scout was kind of glad he had given him his cap. It'd probably saved them the task of babysitting a Medic with head injuries.

" I did!!!" Laughed the Medic. The blood on the cuts in his face seemed to make him especially happy. "It zaid 'push'!"

"Ya call that a _push_?"

Ace looked around the shelves of the minimart as the Sniper fussed over Pepin, brushing shards of glass off him. There wasn't much left really. People must have passed by here before.

"Like beans, Pepin?" Asked Ace. Nobody seemed to like them, the shelves were still stocked with the cans of baked beans.

"Ja. Pepin like ze beans."

"Here, stuff your face." He tossed the Medic a can after checking the expiry date, watching as he cleanly chopped the can in half, its contents spilling out like liquefied jelly. The German grinned at his handiwork, then began to eat off the floor with his hands. Oh yes, he liked to use his hands for _everything._

Ace wanted to tell the Medic not to eat off the probably filthy floor, but countless people must've told him that before, to little effect.

After raiding through the minimart completely they gathered round to take count of their spoils.

"What d'ya got, Ace."

"Hmm, lemme think. Uh, beans, beans, beans, and more frick'n beans."

"Ich mag Beans!!!" Said the German happily, red sauce all over his face.

"Of course you do, Pepi."

"What did you get Eithan?"

"Water, an'a can of tuna." The Sniper tossed the can into the pile of baked beans.

"Oooh, that's precious. Larue? Where the hell are you?"

A head popped out from behind the counter. "Zhere isn't any ice. Or cigarettes." He sounded a little disappointed. "But zhere's money."

"Don't think we'll be needin' much'a that." Chuckled the Aussie.

"Guess that's it then. Don't think Veryl will be pleased with the beans." Ace packed the cans into his bag, counting them as he did.

"Bah. Bloody Spy can have the tuna. Well shall we?" Eithan made to stand up, but was pulled down to the ground again by Larue, who had, quite surprisingly, made a stealthy dash from the counter to where they were gathered by the shelves.

"S-shhhh!!!"

"Gave me a fright Spy, what is it???"

"Z-zhe birds..."

"What? Speak up boy!" He noticed the hand upon his arm was trembling, and that the Spy wasn't even looking at him. His eyes followed his line of sight, and---

"Holy dooley!" He exclaimed, in a voice much softer than before. Outside the minimart, hundreds, no, thousands of pigeons perched. They weren't normal pigeons, mind you. Their feathers were rotting off, some had bones sticking out here and there. It seemed whatever this plague was it wasn't entitled only to human beings. They sat around the minimart, _watching_. Watching _them_.

"Okay this is ridiculous, pigeons instead of crows????" Ace complained, angry that his life wasn't following the exact details of Resident Evil Apocalypse. If he survived this, telling the tale of how he had fought off a horde of zombie pigeons just wasn't as exciting as a horde of zombie crows.

"Shhhhhh!" Hissed the Sniper. "We need to be very careful about how we do this---"

"HALLO MÄDCHEN!" Hollered the one and only, who was standing and waving his arms about. Sniper and Scout had a second to sink their faces into their hands before grabbing the madman and the Spy(who was rooted to the ground).

The pigeons gave an angry coo in unison and charged at the minimart.

"OH SHIT OH FUCK!!!" Ace batted at the few that had flown in through the broken door.

"The bathroom!!!" Yelled the Sniper.

They tumbled through the door one by one, Eithan shutting it tightly behind him. And not a second too soon, because they could hear the glass windows crash in outside, and the flutter of many pairs of wings.

"Okay mates, just stay calm, maybe they'll go away..."

Larue gave a sharp shriek. There was a stinking corpse of a man in one of the stalls, and his eyes had been gouged out. The Spy's sound seemed to attract the birds, and the door began to shake with the sound of pecking.

"Or maybe not." Sighed Eithan. "There's gotta be a way outta this shit hole!"

"The window!" Ace went over and reached up, pushing it open.

"Good on'ya mate! Any of them pigeons out there?"

"It's too high up for me to see. Larue! C'mon!"

"M-moi???"

"Yes '_moi_', get your ass over here!"

The Scout had Larue cloak himself, and propped him up so he could look out the window. As they did so the door began to creak.

"Any of those bitches out there?" He asked. "I mean the birds by the way." He added, before the Apy could ask.

"N-non."

"Good. Stay cloaked and shut the hell up!" He gave a little boost and tossed the Spy out the window. He knew the Spy would rather hide out here in the toilet.

"Eithan you're next!"

"Yeah?"

"I can't have Pepin there alone with Larue. I bet he'll mess things up without supervision."

"Good point."

The Aussie was the next one out the window. He could hear the man telling the Spy it was going to be okay.

"Pepin. C'mon doc!" He growled, grabbing the Medic's arm and pulling him away from the corpse. "You wanna play trampoline?"

"Ja, I do!"

He gave him a boost out the window. Then he proceeded to launch himself out by kicking against the wall below the window. He fell with a roll, recovering to his feet quickly.

"Best hurry, the pigeons won't be fooled for long. Smart ones, those birds." The Sniper passed him something he couldn't see, it felt like a hand. "That one's yours. I'll take the fruit tart." He was holding the Medic tightly by the wrist. Ace knew he himself was holding Larue's hand.

"So it's a mad dash, huh?"

"Got a better plan?"

"Runnin's all I got."

He heard a whimper and gave the invisible hand a squeeze. "Oh shut up, I won't run too fast."

They heard the door hinges breaking behind them.

"On three..."

The door opened with a loud crash and a flurry of wings.

"THREE!!!!" Yelled the Scout, and they shot off as fast as their legs could carry them, rounding back to the front of the minimart and getting back onto the road they had come from. The pigeons proved to be a little like their human counterparts after all, they were still in the toilet pecking around for the four living humans.

Some were a tad bit smarter though, they had flown out the window and were giving chase. Ace had never seen a pigeon fly so fast before.

The second time he turned to look, there was a small cloud of the birds following them. More of the flock were catching up really fast. He tugged at the Spy behind him, whose cloak had worn off with the strain of trying to catch up. "Hurry up old man!" He shouted at the other two behind them. "I can see the car!"

"Old??? Who's old???" Huffed the Sniper angrily, joining the Scout and Spy by the car. There was no time to catch their breaths though. One could see a steadily growing cloud of grey approaching the little car.

" 'hat iz zhat!?" Demanded Veryl, in regard to the dark cloud.

"Not a pink cloud of death that's fer sure. Stay in the car!" He shoved Pepin into the car after Larue, and went to the back to help Ace fill the tank up.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck why pigeons!???"

There was a loud bang, and a pigeon fell dead upon Ace's shoulder. He shook it off, yelling profanities. Veryl grinned at him from the window.

"Not a bad shot." Commented the Sniper, as he got back into the driver's seat.

"Merci. Now I think we should get to zhe driving---" A group of the undead birds descended upon the car, pecking furiously at the windscreen. "Merde! 'urry up!!"

The engine rumbled with the addition of new fuel, and the car rolled into action. The birds didn't relent though. They continued their assault, cracking the windows bit by bit. The car vibrated with the pecking.

"Oh shit what do we do now? The car isn't gunna hold out long!" A hole appeared in the car's roof, a beak poking through, as if to prove his point.

"Ich mag chickin!" Laughed the Medic. He was having the time of his life. When was he not really?

"Zhe wooden bridge up ahead!" Said Veryl, referring to the map. "If we jump out of zhe car and under zhe bridge---"

"Using the car as a diversion eh? I like how you think, even if you're a gib of a Spy."

The window on the left smashed open. Larue shrieked, ducking as a pigeon made its way into the car.

"Chickin!" Exclaimed Pepin, and he swung his saw wildly in the enclosed space, trying to nab the tasty little morsel. He managed to nick Ace in the arm for all his efforts.

"Oh for fuck's sake, put that thing away!"

"No weapons in the car, Pepi!" Chided Eithan, as he tried to manoeuvre the car through the feathered folk. No sooner had he said that a loud bang shook the car and a bullet grazed the tip of his hat. The Sniper took his eyes off the road(he couldn't really see much anyway) to glare at the guilty. Veryl gave him a sheepish grin. "He 'as getting on my suit."

"Guys, GUYS! I THINK THAT'S THE BRIDGE UP AHEAD MAN!"

It was. If one looked carefully through the gaps between the birds one could hazily make out a wooden bridge.

The Aussie hit the accelerator and went at full speed. The moment the wheels hit wooden surface they opened the doors and tumbled out of the car, quickly making their way under the bridge. Their ploy worked, to a certain extent. Most of the flock followed the car down the road, but a group of stragglers remained airborne above the bridge. It didn't sound like they were leaving anytime soon, either. If they didn't leave, there was no way for them to go anywhere.

"Eithan!" Veryl caught the Aussie's attention, shaking the second gas can they had filled. No words needed to be exchanged. The gas can was tossed into the birds and a shot from the rifle followed shortly after. It rained rotten flesh and feathers as the men took a moment to catch their breath under the bridge.

"Pigeons." Said the Sniper breathlessly, picking up a severed wing . "Roasted quite a few over the barbie before."

"Yeah?" Ace prodded a plump feathered ass with his bat. "What's it taste like?"

"Tastes like chicken." He chuckled, then added, tipping his hat, "Makes me feel sixteen again."

~*~

What's this, an update!?

Yes well, I'm sorry it reads like crap, and I'm sorry it's so looooooooooong. My chapters just keep getting longer and draggier. Ohgod why.

**Notes:**

1) What is that damned Pepin saying???

I'd love to translate all those randomly put German words for you guys, but I'm a little too tired now. Say so in a comment and I will, though. 8)

2) No farmhouse unfortunately. 8'C Maybe...

3) Eithan is pronounced Eight-ton btw. 8)

Hope it was worth your wait people!


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